


People Will Say We're In Love

by EzraTheBlue



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Developing Relationship, Forbidden Love, M/M, Manipulation, Minor Lunafreya Nox Fleuret/Noctis Lucis Caelum, Minor Violence, Scandal, Transactional Nonexplicit Ardyn Izunia/Prompto Argentum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-24 14:26:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 79,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21339709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzraTheBlue/pseuds/EzraTheBlue
Summary: Ignis Scientia is a high-profile jewelry designer on the verge of a burnout. On a whim, and in an effort to find some relief from his daily drudgery, he calls an escort service and meets Prompto Argentum, a charming young man with talents much broader than his current profession. As Ignis becomes involved with him, and curiosity turns into something deeper, rumor and scandal begin to swirl around their relationship and Ignis' company. Will Ignis and Prompto be able to be together despite the complications?Written for the 2019 Promnis Big Bang!
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 162
Kudos: 128
Collections: 2019 Promnis Big Bang





	1. Delphi

**Author's Note:**

> I've been very eager to share this one! Special thanks to my artist, Kuiper (AO3 [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuiperdraws) Twitter [here](https://twitter.com/noctsnipples) Insta [here](https://www.instagram.com/kuiperdraws/)) The art is for a scene in chapter 6, and you can view it [here](https://imgur.com/gallery/z1kzFox) as well!
> 
> Special thanks to my editor, [Jump Soap](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jumpsoap/pseuds/jumpsoap)! They've been super helpful, and they write awesome fic too!
> 
> Please be forewarned, there is some explicit material in this fic! The major smut bit is in chapter 7, but there is a non-explicit sex scene with a sex worker character and a client in chapter 10. There is also a non-explicit sex scene between a prostitute and another character mentioned in chapter 14.
> 
> Also, this fic has a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3PSkWXGnTYAf70b0lglF8Q)! Check it out! I'll mark which songs go with which chapters at the bottom of the respective chapters. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading! Please enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A stressed out jewelry designer reaches out on a whim, and meets a fascinating young man.

**1: Delphi**

“Mr. Scientia!” Regis Caelum shouted from the head of the table as Ignis stormed out of the room in a fit of frustration. Ignis had quite enough of the conversation, however, and marched away from the executive meeting. He loathed these sorts of meetings; he’d much rather be holed up in his studio working on his next collection for all of his involvement with the marketing strategy and simply read the minutes on his own time later. As it stood, he’d tried to ignore the gibberish corporate speak Regis and the business oriented executives were spouting, sketching designs for his next line of men’s watches on his notepad, until Regis addressed him directly, asking what he was going to do to outmatch Lucid Designs’ chief competitor, Aldercapt Fashions. 

“I’m an artist, not a market shark,” he griped as he stormed down the hall, his temper flaring through him anew as he recalled Regis’ next question of him:

_ “We are all expected to make sacrifices for the sake of this company. We’re in a tenuous position. Mr. Scientia, what is it you are doing to help us succeed?” _

“Sacrifices!” Ignis stormed into his office, throwing his sketches in the trash. They no longer shone, and they’d barely captured a shine even at his first look. He paced furiously, gesticulating with his hands as if he could shake his anger out through his fingertips. “All the hours I work, pursuing my passions on his behalf, advising _ his _ son, making my work as stellar as it could possibly be, and he asks what I’m _ doing! _”

“Hey, Specs!” Ignis flinched as Noctis, Regis’ son and right-hand man, poked his head into his office. Ignis braced his hands on the desk, reminded himself that Noctis was not his enemy, and took a deep breath.

“Noctis.” 

“Look, my old man can be kind of a sourpuss, but he’s under a lot of pressure.”

Ignis grimaced, thinking unhappily to the cane he’d noticed Regis using of late. “I know. It’s taken a toll on his health.”

“Yeah.” Noctis knit his brow up, crossing his arms and propping himself against the doorframe. “As long as that smarmy ass at Aldercapt is taking potshots at everything we put out and buying up stock every time our market share drops, we have to be on our toes. Look, Dad trusts you, he just wants you to do everything in your power to keep Lucid strong.”

“He acts as if I’m not.” Ignis turned back to his drawing board. “I know if things keep going as they are, we’re at risk for a hostile takeover, but-”

“But nothing.” Ah, so Noctis had been followed. Ignis turned to see Noctis’ shadow, Gladiolus “Gladio” Amicitia, security head and son of Chief Financial Officer Clarus Amicitia, had followed Noctis like he usually did. Ignis generally liked Gladio on good days, but today was not a good day. Gladio studied Ignis from beyond the doorway, sharp-eyed like a hawk and the accusation in his gaze just as piercing. “That’s the way it is, and we all have to do everything in our power to fight back.”

“Gladio,” Noctis sighed, shooting Gladio a baleful stare, before returning his attention to Ignis. “Look, if you’re overloaded, just tell my dad directly. You might actually be able to create better if you ease up a little.”

“Hmph.” Ignis adjusted his glasses where they perched on the end of his nose. “Have some tact. The direct approach is not always best, and it is as he said.” He glanced to his discarded designs. “Perhaps I need to do better.”

“As if you don't do enough,” Noctis muttered, shaking his head. “When's the last time you took vacation?”

Ignis snorted. “Since before I became responsible for educating you in company culture.”

Noctis scowled and tightened his arms. “Hey.”

“Apologies.” Ignis held up a hand, and Noctis huffed. 

“All I'm saying is, maybe you need to step back.”

“Get with it, Noct.” Gladio cuffed Noctis across the head, and Noctis grunted and shot him a glare as he stumbled off the wall. “He can't. None of us can. We can't let our guard down, not while we're gearing up for the Christmas line. Or have you still not figured out how our production timeline works?” He turned to Ignis. “I get that expectations on you are high, but you gotta get yourself together. Get a therapist, or get a hooker, I don't care, but get your piss and vinegar out and get back to it.”

“Gladio, how dare you!” Ignis’ face went hotter than it had been when his anger was fresh, and Noctis elbowed Gladio in the side.

“I was serious. Here.” Gladio flicked a card at Ignis, and Ignis swatted it away before actually taking in the glossy pink text: _ Idle Pursuits_. “Got this at a bar last night. The girl handing it out said it was for guys who ‘need company.’ Guess they couldn't tell I didn't need help there.”

“Isn't prostitution illegal?” Noctis sulked and glared at Gladio, who scoffed.

“‘Company’ doesn't have to mean sex. It usually does, but who am I to dictate how a guy wets his whistle?” Gladio smirked at Ignis, leaning forward as if to challenge him. “That or you come drinking with me sometime and try your luck.”

“I have no time for that, this, or any of this.” Ignis slammed the card down on his desk and turned from the other two. Back to his work. “I'll deal with myself, and thank you both to leave me to my designs.”

“Designs.” Noctis cracked a smile. “There's the Specs I know.” He turned, but hesitated. “You sure you just wanna go back to the drawing board? We could go for a coffee first.”

“I'm quite fine, Noctis.” He managed a smirk. “Besides, the notion of taking a meal with Gladio seems _ sketchy _ at the moment.”

Gladio snorted, then clapped Noctis’ shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, we'll draw you in next time. C'mon, Noct.” The two of them departed, and Ignis lifted his eyes to the blank sketchpad on his drafting desk.

Nothing came to him.

Ignis sighed, shut his office door, and pulled his stool around to the desk. He'd hadn't become Lucid’s leading jewelry designer by struggling with artist's block. He was renowned and praised for the minute details of his designs, the artistic flare he brought to even simple pieces, and the impeccable sense of taste he brought in every collection. There was a reason he held the position he did, and it was not merely a lifelong relationship with Regis Caelum, not his friendship with his son, and certainly not his proficiency at socializing. 

“I'm an artist,” he repeated, but without his prior rage, it sounded more like an excuse to his ears than a defense. “No, I am an artist. Artists are meant to be tortured spirits, aren't they?” He smiled wryly to himself, then took up his pencil, opened a can of his favorite packaged coffee, and began to think.

He knew the pressure they were under. If he couldn't produce something even more brilliant than his summer line, the winter quarter would be a failure and that would be on his head. 

And yet, after an hour of work he had nothing but a pile of discarded sketches and aborted drawings, pages of his calculations of the angles of light through the gems, and his curve ruler pitched at the trash can. Nothing he'd come up with was truly inspired. None of it would have the shine he wanted. 

“Useless,” he sighed to himself, then glanced to the closed door. The hall lights had dimmed, and Ignis imagined he, the janitorial staff, and Regis himself were the last ones in the building, and he was merely here spinning his wheels, or rather, grinding his gears and teeth. He may as well leave, but then, he had nothing to go home to but his quiet apartment. 

Gladio and Noctis were likely enjoying their evening by now, and he was loathe to interrupt, especially since he would be nothing but unhappy. He'd already heard their response to his complaints. 

He put his head against his sketch board and tapped it against the surface a few times. Something fell off the edge to the ground at the impact, and Ignis automatically moved to pick it up.

It happened to be the card Gladio had given him. Ignis’ lip curled, and he made to pitch it at his wastebasket, but faltered.

Gladio had said it didn't have to be sex. 

That would be his only excuse for taking out his personal phone and dialing.

_ “Idle Pursuits,” _ a woman with a sultry, rich voice answered, _ “How can we satisfy your needs?” _

God, hiring a prostitute. What would people think of him?

“I was looking for… _ company _ tonight.” The word came out wobbly, and Ignis hunched in his stool like he could duck out of view, as if anyone were watching. The woman on the other end of the line hummed.

_ “Are you a regular?” _

“N-no, I've never called a service like this before.”

She chuckled. _ “That's no problem, Johnny. I'll text you a secure link to enter your payment info. But let's talk about more pleasant things. Do you have any preferences? Requests?” _

Ignis was certain he understood her implications enough to answer: “Male. I prefer men. Preferably younger than I am, early twenties or roundabouts. I don't have any requests, so to speak, but I do require… discretion.” Ignis tugged his collar as if he could blame it for making his voice too tight.

_ “Discretion’s the name of our game. Is there anything you're looking for? Whips and chains? Leather and lace? Ropes, wax, we can get creative.” _

“No, no.” Ignis couldn't imagine trusting a total stranger with anything like that, nor did he even want anything ‘creative’ this time. “Just a friendly young man for some company.”

_ “Hm.” _ Ignis heard the sound cut out for a moment, then, _ “Is it alright if I give this number to one of our workers? I've got someone in mind, and you can arrange location with him directly.” _

“Yes, that's fine. Thank you.”

_ “Good,” _ the woman purred, and Ignis shuddered as the reality of his actions set in like an imprint on his chest. _ “He'll text you soon. Be ready, and have fun.” _

Ignis listened as the line went dead, then sighed. His phone was still at his ear when he got a text alert, and hurried to check it.

_ “Hi! I heard u need some company ;) Where would u like 2 meet?” _

An unfamiliar number from out of the region. Ignis quickly responded, _ “I'm getting us a room at the Golden Key Suites. Meet me there in one hour and text when you arrive.” _ He grabbed his empty coffee can and his belongings and hurried for the door, strategizing.

He'd pack a bag with essentials and walk to the hotel from his penthouse, they were only a few blocks apart. He'd stay the night, and if asked, he was dealing with a minor water supply issue. He raised his phone to call the hotel, and saw that the unknown number had responded to his directions with a thumbs-up emoji. Ignis couldn't suppress a smile, and dialed the hotel.

* * *

“Golden Key Suites.” Prompto whistled and opened his phone's camera, standing under the marquee and pointing the viewfinder straight up to capture the white moon and navy sky against all the shimmering golden lights. “This guy's either loaded, or just really in a mood to treat himself.” He checked the photo and grinned; despite using a pretty basic camera, he'd caught the light just right. “Well, I hope I'm a good snack, anyway!”

Prompto Argentum liked to think of himself as an escort. He was available to hire to take people places. If that place was a fancy party where someone needed a cute boy to hold their arm or purse, Prompto was open. If that place happened to be ‘one-way to Sextown, population _ you_,’ Prompto could oblige. It wasn't his first career choice, but he was good at it, and it wasn't so bad, most days. It kept a roof over his head, at least, and some kids his age couldn't say that. So, Prompto would go wherever someone else needed him to go.

Aranea had said she'd gotten a call from a lonely-sounding virgin, and she knew he liked the shy ones. Prompto was good at finding things to say, getting people to talk, opening lines of communication, and then blowing their minds. Prompto was actually looking forward to this a little. He checked his phone and saw a text from his john: _ “3415. Please knock upon arrival.” _ Prompto grinned. He liked that this guy typed his sentences out, all proper. He went to the elevator, fidgeting as he pressed the button for the 34th floor.

“Oh. Em. Gee. That's the actual suite floors.” Prompto's eyes boggled a little as the elevator zipped up the line to near the top of the hotel. This guy had to be loaded. 3415 was at the end of the hall, and Prompto knocked “shave-and-a-haircut” next to the lock mechanism and stepped back so he could be seen in the peephole. He'd dressed alright, or so he thought—skinny jeans, a fitted tee, a leather jacket to keep the city wind off of his arms. He faintly heard motion behind the door, and then the door swung open, and Prompto was greeted by dulcet tones and terse words:

“Let's not dawdle in the hall, now.” Prompto hurried in, then turned to get a better look at the source of that voice.

_ Oh. _ Aranea had _ lied to him. _ There was no way this guy was a _ virgin_.

His john for the evening was tall and thin, but lean and cut (Prompto could tell from the glimpse of a chiseled collarbone under that perfectly carved jawline). He wore a fitted gray suit, but he doffed his jacket and hung it by the door as Prompto watched the flex of his arms. His face wasn't classically handsome, but the kind of regal beauty attributed to Roman emperors, with a strong profile and proud cheekbones. His honey-brown hair was coiffed back, combed into place, skin smooth and beard shaven, and his eyes were that bright green one only saw in a rainbow on a sunny day. _ Oh no_, Prompto found himself thinking, _ he's hot_. He was the best-looking guy who'd ever paid Prompto for sex, for sure. Prompto didn't think he was too shabby himself, but this guy was gorgeous. 

_ Ease up, ease up, _ he told himself, and dusted his front, then pulled his jacket off. “May I hang my coat with yours?”

Prompto saw the john examine him, and subconsciously sucked his belly in. Then, the john nodded sharply, and Prompto hung his jacket. The man was still taking him in, his gaze intense, and Prompto remembered that no matter how good they were, looks weren't everything. This guy seemed shy, Aranea had said, and thirty seconds with him was telling Prompto it was true. Prompto knew it was on him to take the lead. “I've never been in this hotel before, but you have great taste!” He beamed at the john and extended a hand. “I'm Sil. Everyone calls me Sil, anyway.” The man twitched when Prompto offered the handshake.

“Er. Yes. Sil.” Then, he cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, a fashionable visor-type set of specs, on the end of his nose. “My apologies, I'm—I've never done anything quite like this before, so I'm rather…” He was gesticulating with one hand, but froze when he saw Prompto still had a hand out, and clasped it. “I'm… Delphi.”

“Delphi, then? Pleasure to meet you.” Delphi was absolutely not this man's name. Then again, Sil wasn't his. Prompto didn't want his clients to have his name or personal information, outside of his work phone, owned and paid for by the company. A few guys and older women had trouble drawing the line between “escort” and “new lover.” Likewise, Delphi probably didn't want anyone (Prompto) spouting everywhere how Hot Rich Guy Probably Married To An Ice Queen had slept with a hooker (Prompto), swiftly ruining his life, marriage, business, and, if Prompto understood how felony convictions worked, voting rights. Delphi it was. “And don't worry. I've never met anyone like you before either. Let's take it at easy. I've got all night.” Prompto slid his thumb up Delphi's hand to his wrist—_ stars_, his hands were fantastic, long and lean, lined with fine muscle, outright elegant—and when Delphi didn't resist, Prompto lifted his hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. He could faintly smell pencil lead on the back of that beautiful hand. Delphi inhaled, just a little.

“Y-yes.” He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing, and turned towards the sitting area. Prompto had expected to be led towards the bedroom, but instead, Delphi was opening up the mini-bar. “May I make you a drink, or are you not allowed?”

Prompto raised an eyebrow. Funny thing was, he totally wasn’t allowed to drink on the job, but that Delphi thought to ask gave him an inkling that he’d likely be totally safe. “I can have one, but go easy on the hard stuff, I’m a lightweight.” He grinned and followed Delphi to peer at the bottles. “Vodka and soda?”

“A classic.” Delphi plucked a jigger and tumbler off of the top of the minibar’s refrigerator and quickly poured two ponies of vodka into the tumbler, then topped it off with club soda and a few ice cubes. He poured two jiggers of gin in a glass for himself, then added ginger ale and ice and a third shot of gin. Quick hands and a good eye, Prompto noted. Delphi passed him his glass, and when Prompto took it, he let his fingers linger on the back of Delphi’s hand a split second longer than absolutely necessary, before taking his glass and trying the drink. A little bitter, a little sting, then a just little sweet. Just right. Delphi had watched him, and now gestured to the sitting area. “Would you mind sitting?”

Okay, he was taking it slow. Prompto could do slow. Delphi was his only appointment tonight, and he figured he had until 1, maybe 1:30, to rock this guy’s world and get home before curfew. 

Prompto sat on the loveseat facing the window and patted the spot next to him. “Come here, this room’s too big to sit here by my lonesome!” Delphi trotted over and sat, graceful as you please, and Prompto grinned a little wider. His legs looked just as long up close. Delphi seemed to notice him staring, and Prompto’s grin got a little stiff. “I, uh, guess I should ask what it is you’re looking for.”

“What I am looking for,” Delphi repeated tonelessly, swirling his drink in the glass before taking a long sip. “That is a good question. I suppose I’ve rather been in a rut, and I’ve no idea how to change it.”

That sure explained calling an escort service, Prompto thought, but he took a little sip of his drink out of sympathy. “What sort of rut? Like, living too long in the same place, nothing changing—is it work stuff?”

“Hmph. I suppose it was either that or family, and I’ve none of the latter to speak of.” Delphi stared down into his drink as if it had killed his parents. “But… work.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.” Prompto leaned forward with interest, setting his chin on his palm then taking another sip of his drink. Delphi studied him, and Prompto smiled. “I mean it. Work’s got you stressed?”

“I suppose you might be able to relate when it comes to difficult jobs.” Delphi was chewing his bottom lip, and Prompto just snickered.

“What, your boss ride you too hard sometimes?” Delphi sputtered, turning pink, and Prompto laughed. “Kidding, kidding! But for real, job stress is a killer!”

“It… it can be.” Delphi slid his long finger in a slow circle around the rim of his glass, gazing down into his drink. “I’m in a rather competitive industry, and one of our biggest competitors has been making some aggressive moves. I’m an executive, but I’m very much on the production end of the business rather than the logistics. Strategy isn’t something to which I’m ill-suited, but I prefer my work in design to making designs on others.”

Prompto laughed again, and Delphi raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh, I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing with you! But I get what you mean.” Prompto sat forward, elbows on his knees and holding Delphi’s gaze. “It’s rough when someone else is creeping up on you, and there’s nothing you can really do but just keep doing the best you can and hope it’s enough.”

“Precisely, and I do.” Delphi sighed and took another gulp of his drink, then pinched his brow. “I put in so many late nights at my own work, editing and redrawing and searching for new ideas, not to mention supervising production of my designs, and what’s more, I’ve been mentoring my employer’s son in design philosophy to help him learn what we do, and that’s on top of everything else.” Delphi slapped his own knee. “I’ve been awake for thirty-six hours straight during crunch periods before premieres, so absorbed in my work I forget to eat and drink nothing but cold canned coffee—”

Prompto reacted too fast: “Whoa, that’s not healthy.”

“—But I love my job, so I can forget about it in the moment and simply relish a job well done.” Delphi hunched over. “But… I’ve been exhausted as of late, and struggling to focus. What’s more, my employer called me out directly for not doing enough for… for the company, and I—I was so angry, but then I realized that my productivity has been ingloriously awful. Given my rut, I suppose his challenge…” Delphi hesitated again, until Prompto scooted closer to him.

“It sounds like you work really hard, though.” He slid his hand over Delphi’s, claiming it from where it was wrapped around the glass and wrapping both of his hands around his palm. 

Delphi’s fingers were a little chilly, and the skin was rubbed smooth—Prompto bet the guy worked with paper all day, writing things by hand. He’d said design, right? Prompto couldn’t tell if he meant software or interior decorating or whatever, but there were plenty of big companies in Insomnia. Delphi had been carefully anonymizing his life outside of his room, and Prompto wouldn’t pry. 

“You know, maybe you work too hard! I know, I know, it sounds nuts.” Indeed, Delphi had turned to gaze at him again, evincing an ineffable expression between anger and bewilderment as Prompto squeezed his hand. “But you know, you gotta balance things! If all you do is work, you’re gonna burn yourself out in no time! It’s like, if you never restart your cell phone, it can’t install updates and the internal memory gets too full, and it slows down and gets all chunky, y’know?” That seemed to register with Delphi, and Prompto took the slight relaxation in his face as a sign that he could ease his thigh closer to Delphi’s. “You can only do so much! I mean, do you take any time for yourself? Or is your work your whole life?”

Delphi cleared his throat, but his hand was warming and starting to go slack in Prompto’s hold. “I… I am devoted to the company. But it’s…” He trailed off, and Prompto shifted so he could look into Delphi’s eyes. 

“It’s important, yeah, but you need to take time for you! For stuff that makes you happy!”

“My work makes me happy,” Delphi protested, and Prompto deliberately rolled his eyes.

“Well, yeah, sure, but something that isn’t ‘work!’ Like, you’re talking to me, which, don’t get me wrong, is super nice! But do you have friends you see on the weekends?”

“I generally work on weekends.” Delphi worried his lower lip against his teeth, and Prompto felt his hand tense. “And… all of my friends are part of the company.”

“For real? Jeez.” Prompto squeezed Delphi’s hand in his. “But there must be something else you like. Loving your work is one thing, but if it’s draining you, maybe you need a distraction. Just, step away from the things other people expect from you or want from you, do what makes you smile! It’s okay to just be you, and do things that make you happy for your own sake, at least sometimes.” Prompto beamed, as Delphi slumped a little beside him, his chest caving, eyebrows all knit up. 

Had anyone ever told this poor guy to take care of himself? “It’s okay,” Prompto repeated, and Delphi’s face fell completely. Prompto rubbed his back in little circles, and Delphi leaned into his touch. Prompto’s heart fluttered.

Delphi actually looked a little relieved when he next spoke: “And what is it you do, to make yourself smile?”

“Me?” Prompto frowned, and Delphi lifted his head.

“I see nobody else to whom I could be speaking.” He smiled wryly. “Or are you something of a workaholic yourself?”

“No way! I have hobbies.” Prompto chuckled, and shifted into Delphi’s lap just a little more, their knees touching and legs tangling a little. “I play video games, I read comics—” Prompto suddenly felt childish, so he broke off and diverted: “I run! I love track running, cross-country, even just plain old street jogging. I actually love just roaming around the city, taking pictures. Oh, and I love photography!” Prompto was going for his phone without thinking about it. “I don’t actually have my camera on me tonight, but if I see a cool location I’ll snap it—like, even tonight!” He realized he’d opened his phone gallery almost without thinking, and looked to Delphi. “Oh, sorry, uh—”

“No, no. Please.” Delphi sounded genuinely interested, his warm baritone rich with curiosity. “You enjoy photography? Do you have any photographs? May I see?”

“Heh.” Was Prompto’s face suddenly hot? That was… not new, but Prompto had never reacted to a client like that. “Well, sure! See, I actually took this one right outside…”

He scrolled through his gallery, showing Delphi photographs and describing where he took each one, adding as he scrolled through a few duds, “I’ll usually go back with my good camera and take better shots of the really good vistas. I’ll actually even check the path tracker on my pedometer app, since it’s GPS-enabled!” 

“Clever.” Delphi seemed amused, but more importantly, he was interested in Prompto, hanging off of every word, fascinated by every picture. “Though, when you say ‘good camera,’ I imagine you mean something a touch more specialized than the phone? I daresay, even the photographs on your mobile phone are skillfully executed.”

“Aw, thanks!” Prompto beamed, smoothing his hair back with pride. He was used to clients complimenting him, telling him how pretty he was, how well he did what he did, how good he felt, but somehow, even though Prompto never believed his clients, it felt nice to hear Delphi say something about him other than how good he was at his job. “It’s just something I do for me, but it’s nice. Plus, I find some really neat stuff out there. I could show you sometime, if you like!”

He realized what he’d said a second too late: halfway into a client’s lap but fully clothed and half-tipsy, and talking to him like he’d just made a new friend. He was a split second from apologizing and trying to get down to business, but Delphi seemed to just smile again. “I do believe I would enjoy that. May I keep your phone number, then?”

“For sure!” Prompto shifted over to his contacts page without a second thought and added Delphi as a contact, using the pseudonym. Delphi took his own phone number out and did the same, and Prompto saw him type in ‘Sil.’ Perfect. Now, on to what Delphi had called him for -

“May I see the others?” Delphi pointed at his phone again. “You have a unique knack for capturing the light.”

Prompto was gaping. He knew he was slackjawed and looking stupid, but he composed himself enough to ask, “For real?”

“Very much so. You have a talent.” Delphi’s eyes glimmered, his face peaceful and contented, and Prompto didn’t hesitate another second in opening up the gallery again.

“Okay, so, here’s the fountain in the shopping district. The angles at about four-o’-clock from the West side actually give the water a unique effect, so…”

Delphi finished his drink slowly, leaning on Prompto’s shoulder as Prompto showed him every photograph he thought worthwhile. Delphi started commenting back, on the colors, the composition, the angles, all mixed with little notes of praise. Prompto felt like he was floating on a golden sea of happiness, until he went to flip to the next picture and caught sight of the time. “Aw, man. I’m sorry, I gotta go.” 

“Oh, do you?” Delphi sat up all at once, severing their connection. “I apologize; did you have another client?”

“What? Oh, no, nothing like that! I never overbook!” Prompto laughed and shook his head. “No, my boarding house has a 2 a.m. curfew, and if I don’t leave now, I might not make it!”

“I see.” Delphi slumped again. “I suppose I wouldn’t want you in trouble for missing your curfew.”

Prompto hid a wince as he took his jacket off the hanger and tugged it back on, and faintly realized he’d never so much as taken off his shoes. Delphi had never made a move to do so. He took a moment to rinse out both of their emptied glasses, so he can say he did _ something _ for him, until Delphi clicked his tongue.

“Leave it; the hotel staff are quite perspicacious about such things.”

“Ah. Yeah, sure.” Prompto left the glasses turned over in the suite sink and moved for the door, only to find Delphi had come to stand and see him out, and he found himself pigeon-toed. “Hey, um, can I ask…”

“You may.” 

Prompto hesitated again. Delphi was staring, expectant, so Prompto let the words roll out: “Um… we… we both know why you called me. I, um, am I…” He looked down at his feet. “Am I not your type?”

Delphi’s eyebrows rose with surprise, and even the peak of his styled hair stood on end. “No, no. You are, in fact, brilliant. I did intend more, but…” And then, his expression cracked into a helpless, foolishly fond smile. “It seems you have skills other than those which you advertise, and you’ve given me more relief than I could have gotten any other way.” Delphi wrapped a hand around his this time and lifted Prompto’s palm to his smooth, perfect mouth, then kissed it. “Thank you.”

“Stars,” Prompto whispered, heart racing and swelling in his chest like it was going to go supernova. “I… thank you. I’ll see you again, I hope.” He opened the door and strolled out, reeling and rolling like a jet doing a barrel roll as he floated towards the elevator. He pushed the button, but looked back down the hallway at the closed door for a second longer as he waited, the golden glow of Delphi’s praise still burning in his breast.

“It’s almost like he actually likes me.”

* * *

Ignis sank back onto the overly cushy sofa of the suite, and his hand fell over his own face. He could hardly believe it himself, but he’d done it, and while it hadn’t been what he’d expected, it had been better than anything he could have imagined.

Kindness and companionship for hire. Ignis felt like he’d been underground for a decade and had only just caught a glimpse of the sunlight in Sil’s smile.

“How very bright he was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist #1 - "Collar Full," Panic! At the Disco  
_We've waited so damn long, we're sick and tired_  
I won't leave any doubt or stone unturned  
I've got a collar full of chemistry from your company  
So maybe tonight I'll be the libertine


	2. In the A.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after Prompto's first night with Ignis.

**2\. In the A.M.**

It was 1:59 when Prompto got to the security desk. Wedge was there tonight, and Prompto thanked every star that shone on him, because Wedge was one of the good ones. He was a little older than Prompto, and always looked friendly and a little tired, even now as he slouched at the desk watching some infomercial on the television under the security feeds as Prompto dashed up to him, panting:

“‘M back! Please tell me I beat curfew.”

Wedge didn’t look away from his TV, but smirked and waved Prompto on. “Go on, kid. I won’t tell Aranea you got caught up with that virgin.” Prompto grinned and scampered in. He still felt like he was floating a little bit as he skipped up the stairs to all of the dormitory rooms, past the “guest room” floors.

“Boarding house” sure sounded nicer than “brothel” when he was telling Delphi about it. Sure, the public-facing side of the building had plush, cushy rooms with big beds, decorated warmly like a hotel, but there were dormitory rooms for Prompto and the other escorts in employ. Prompto was up on the fifth floor, and he jogged the stairs up on his toes, as softly as he could. 

He pushed the door open slowly and just a crack, expecting the room to be dark, but it wasn't. The light beside the bunk bed was on, and his roommate was flopped on her belly on the top bunk, reading a fashion magazine. Her head shot up as Prompto pushed the door the rest of the way in, her pigtails bobbing, but the moment he turned from turning and locking the door, she was up and on him.

“There you are!” She grabbed his chin and looked him up and down, then on his neck. Prompto exaggerated a gag.

“Hi to you too, Cindy.”

“Don't you ‘hi’ me, I thought they were gonna be fishin’ you out of the river!” Cindy’s drawl was a comfort, even as she put her hands on her hips and stuck her lower lip out. “You ain't ever out this late!” 

“Aw, Cin, I'm fine!” Prompto stripped his shirt off to let Cindy check him over. She circled him, huffing impatiently as she searched him for bruises. “Not so much as a love bite, see?”

Cindy sniffed and crossed her arms. “A gal's gotta be sure, y'know. I always get nervous when they send us out to new guys, y’never know what they might do!” Her gaze rolled down to the floor, and she twirled a lock of her hair around her finger. “The Creep might be, y’know, The Creep, but at least I know what to expect outta him!”

Prompto stuck his tongue out. “I'm counting my blessings I haven't meet your Creep, but this new guy was, like, a perfect gentleman.” He stripped his belt off and wiggled out of his jeans, then pitched his clothes at the hamper. They fell to a heap alongside it, and Prompto threw himself onto his bunk. “I just totally lost track of time.”

“Well, watch the clock a little more carefully, silly.” Cindy sighed and climbed back to her bunk. “I was about to call Aranea!”

“Sorry!” Prompto tried to sound contrite. “I'll make sure to text you my location next time I get a new guy, but it's kinda hard to, y'know, pause an encounter if stuff runs long. Clients get bitchy if you're texting while they're getting done.”

Cindy giggled. “I tell ‘em I'm takin' a picture so I can remember how good a time we're havin’. They usually eat that kind'a ego stroking up. Besides, you're a shutterbug anyway!” She leaned around the edge of her bunk to look down at him. “What took this guy so long? Trouble gettin’ it up, or he just like to play around first?”

Prompto snorted and shrugged. “Nothing like that. Not really.”

Cindy hummed but rolled back onto her bunk. “And not even a hickey.”

“Okay, full disclosure?” He leaned out of his bunk to peek up towards her. “We didn't do it. He just really wanted to talk.” 

“What?” Cindy gaped down at him. “You serious?”

“Yeah, but like, I really would've enjoyed it if we did! He was super hot, Cin.” Prompto grinned, broad and crooked, and fanned himself. “I was kinda waiting for him to make a move. He’s the prettiest guy who’s called me in a while. But I think he just wanted someone to talk to, someone who was totally unconnected to his work and life, and he just got so interested in talking that he forgot he was supposed to get busy with me.” Cindy laughed, and Prompto laughed with her, before rolling back over. “Kinda hurt my feelings at first, not gonna lie, but he said he'd meant to, just…”

“Aw, Prompto.” Cindy cooed. “You got lucky, you met one of the nice ones. He take your number?”

“Yup.”

“Then when he calls you back, you give him a double whammy, show him what he missed the first time. I do hope Mr. Hot Stuff calls you again.”

“Me too.” Prompto realized he was grinning like an idiot at the very thought. “You good on the light?”

“Yeah, I got an early morning.” He could hear Cindy rolling her eyes as he reached for the pull on the lamp. “As if it ain't bad enough The Creep pulled my hair for half a damn hour tonight, I gotta do a photoshoot of Aldercapt’s fall coats with him tomorrow, so I'm up too damn early for makeup if I’m gonna get it done before that July sun ruins the lighting.” 

Prompto hummed sadly. “S'a shame your modeling doesn't pay enough to clear your debt.”

Cindy was quiet, then, she whispered, “Soon. Night, Prompto.”

“Night, Cindy.” He paused, then grinned in the dark. “I promise I won't eat your breakfast if you don't rat me out to the morning guard.”

“Aw, get to bed!” Cindy kicked the bunk, making the brace over Prompto's head rattle, and Prompto snickered to himself. His weariness caught up with him in baby steps, and as Cindy’s breathing evened out, he began to hum to himself, an octave low but no less enthusiastic:

_"__Bed, bed! I couldn't go to bed, my head is far too light to set it down_ _…” _

* * *

“Wake up, wake up!” Someone was banging on all the doors, his nasally voice echoing outside, and Prompto groaned as he rolled over and covered his head with his pillow. Cindy was gone already, but he didn't have anywhere to be and it was way too early to be up. He tried to slow his breathing down again, but the second he'd started to relax, the door slammed open into the wall, and Loqi, one of the morning guards, barreled in. “Rise and shine, Freckles!”

Loqi was not one of the good ones. Prompto wondered if there was anyone at Delphi’s job who he just _ hated _ dealing with.

“Get up, get up!” Loqi yanked the sheet off of his bunk, and really, Prompto didn't care who saw him in his boxers anymore, but that didn't mean he enjoyed being exposed. “What, you get worked over too good? Still sleeping that last dick off?”

“Not like you'd know what it’s like.” Prompto shot back fast enough, hopping out of bed and grabbing a shirt. “You've never given a girl a good night's sleep in your life.” He threw Loqi an unkind smirk, and Loqi shoved him.

“Don't you give me shit with spunk on your breath!” 

Prompto figured it was because Loqi, with his baby face and high school bully sneer, was younger than some of the other guards. Maybe he felt inadequate and was trying to compensate. Prompto kind of got the overcompensation thing, but just because he understood didn't mean he was going to sympathize. “Yeah, yeah, at least I enjoy my job sometimes.” He shuffled along as Loqi ushered him out.

“Whatever! Just go wash off the body glitter, eat something—nobody likes anorexic hookers—and write your family.” Prompto froze up at the second demand—_ this again? _

“C’mon, man, you know I don't have-”

“Liar! Of course you do!” Loqi shoved him again, this time into the hall, then threw an envelope at his feet. “Write them and tell them you're doing well, or send an email and show me proof, or make a phone call where I can hear you, I don't care, we don't need your idiot parents sniffing around because you're too busy whoring around to write! Biggs and Wedge might be dumb enough to let you off the hook, but I’m not.”

Prompto rolled his eyes, but took the envelope and turned for the showers. He knew most of the others would call home once or twice a week with assurances they were okay in the big city, but Cindy’s parents were dead, and her only family, her Paw-paw, didn't answer his phone reliably, so she'd write to him. He'd see Cindy getting letters back from him, too. 

Prompto wrinkled the envelope as he trundled into the communal kitchen, grabbed a banana, a jar of peanut butter, and a slice of bread, and weaved around the other girls (and guys, it was about an eighty-twenty ratio), as he tried to get a spreader, a plate, and a cup of what passed for coffee around here and tried to think of how to get out of contacting his nonexistent family this time. 

He wondered if Delphi had a family. He said he worked every day and late nights. Was anyone waiting at home for him? Or was everyone he interacted with really just part of his job? Prompto wondered for a second what was worse, not having a family at all, or having a family like that.

Suddenly, Prompto had an idea. It wasn’t like he could stop thinking about Delphi this morning anyway.

Prompto found a seat in the dining room, scooting between a man a little broader and taller than him, and a red-haired girl who looked too young for this job, and scrawled his letter as he munched down his peanut-butter and banana toast. He peered up from the table every other bite to see if Loqi was watching him. He was, sneering under his mop of straw-colored hair and looked down his stub of a nose at him from the doorway. Prompto ignored him—he’d been bullied in high school too, this was nothing new—and wrote his letter to Delphi:

_ “Dear Delphi: _

_ I’ve been thinking about you since last night! I wish you’d told me more about yourself, you’re crazy interesting! I love the way you talk, too, your voice is so smooth and sexy. Plus, I know it’s a little hypocritical, but I like how hard you work. You care about your job, and all, and not a lot of people actually like their work! I bet you’ll like it more if it’s not all you do, that’s all. I wonder who you are when you’re you, at your happiest. I hope I get to see you again and find out. _

_ Love, _

_ Sil.” _

Would Delphi ever see it? Nah, Prompto would just keep this one. But did Loqi see him tuck the letter into the envelope and lick the adhesive to seal it? Yes, he did. He finished his toast and chugged down his muddy coffee, then bounded for the front door. Loqi spotted him leaving and chased him.

“Get back here, Freckles!”

“No time, late for my run already!” He waved, saluting with his letter. “I’ll drop this in the box for ya!”

Loqi kept shouting after him as he wove through the hall to the lobby, only to spot Ulldor, the senior guard (and probably the only one worse than Loqi), and a few other house guards greeting a man Prompto thought he recognized from previous visits. Not a lot of guys showed up for a visit with an escort in haute-couture streetwear (which some of the girls assured him was _ tres fashionable _ but really just looked kind of silly to him). His style must have caught the eye, at least, because Loqi stopped cold when he saw the VIP. 

“Oh, hi there, opening!” Prompto dodged around the little throng gathering around the visitor, not quite sure he heard someone calling after him, but he took the opportunity to bolt for the street, shoving the letter he wasn’t going to send into his jacket as he ran out into the street.

He worked late nights, but the mornings were his. The summer swelter hadn’t set in yet, and the city streets were still fresh. Maybe being up too early wasn’t the worst thing in the world. It would give him plenty of time for a long run around the city, lots of angles of sunlight to capture, and lots of time to daydream about Delphi.

He was grinning again. He couldn’t help but sing a little to himself as he set out, _ “I could have danced all night, I could have danced all night, and still have begged for more!” _

* * *

Ignis was humming tunelessly as his pencil danced its way across his sketch pad. He had no idea why he was humming. However, after a good night’s sleep and a lovely breakfast, not to mention a surprisingly pleasant evening with unexpectedly delightful company, he couldn’t help his good mood.

He hadn’t felt particularly songful since he had been advised to drop his middle school choir class for an extra fine arts elective, given his respective talents for each art form in particular. However, he felt so much lighter than he had the night before that he couldn’t help but express it with “the song in his heart.”

He’d hardly been in for two hours, and he’d already come up with a good six pages of base sketches. He put the finishing touch on his newest necklace idea, a fair constellation of wispy silvery threads connecting tiny gems across the decollete of its wearer. Exquisite! Divine! Unique!

And conveniently, reminiscent of the pale smattering of freckles across Sil’s cheeks. 

Ignis had thought release of the kind Gladio had taunted him with might have wicked out some of the stress he’d been feeling, and yet a simple, quiet night of conversation had lead him to a much more profound release. That sweet, bright young man with an infectious smile, the ability to find something to say no matter what, and encouragement and positivity as genuine as Cartanica gold had somehow made him feel lighter with nothing more than words. It helped that Sil was utterly darling, his wild sunlight yellow hair slicked back into a punkish cowlick, his fair skin dotted with a galaxy of charming freckles, and his smile—a little crooked and a little too wide, maybe—that made Ignis feel so at ease.

Sil was likely well-admired by many of his clients for those very qualities. 

Ignis’ heart sank when he thought that Sil had to go and be sweet, silly, and funny for countless other men. He let his pencil fall from his hand and gathered his drawings up, rolling them carefully, then sighing. He couldn’t let himself dwell. He’d had one impulsive evening with a lovely boy, but now it was time to return to what he was best at. Regis would be impressed with his latest designs, or so he hoped. 

Regis’ office was always open to him, but it wasn't only Regis’ office anymore. Noctis was lolling at his desk in Regis’ receiving area, gazing into his laptop screen. Ignis could hear him as he got close, drawings held gingerly to his chest, as Noctis talked into the computer: “... I’m glad you’re safe there.”

_ “I promise you, I am.” _ Ignis smiled fondly; he recognized the young woman’s accent, similar to his own, and immediately knew that this was a conversation not to be interrupted. _ “The officials here are grateful for our assistance, so we’re well cared-for.” _ Noctis was mesmerized by his screen, and Ignis softened his steps to creep around and get a view of the screen. As Ignis had thought, Noctis was on a video call with a lovely, fair-haired young lady wearing a doctor’s coat emblazoned with the _ Médicins Sans Frontières _ logo. She seemed to catch sight of Ignis in the web camera, and her eyes sparkled for a moment. _ “How about you, Noctis? Are you doing your best?” _

“Oh, me?” Noctis sat up a little. “I’m… I’m trying.” He cleared his throat, pretending to look regal for a moment. “I’ve been trying to observe everyone, taking in as much as I can, but sometimes I feel like all I can do is read the papers they give me and approve or disapprove, and learn everything there is to know, but…”

_ “It’s quite a lot.” _

“It is.” Noctis slouched again, and Ignis had to cover his mouth to stifle a little smile. The woman on the screen glanced up at him, still smiling.

_ “You’re well-supported, though.” _

“Oh, yeah. Specs and Gladio are such lifesavers. Since Specs knows, like, everything, and Gladio is...” Noctis paused. “Hey, Luna, is something up?”

_ “Whatever do you mean?” _ Luna pointedly tilted her head to indicate that she was looking over Noctis’ shoulder. Noctis whirled around and went beet red when he spotted Ignis, who was stifling a laugh. 

“Dammit, Specs!”

“Apologies; I hadn't meant to interrupt your work-hours Skype call.” Noctis scowled, but Ignis turned a light smile to the camera. “Good morning, Doctor Fleuret. Or is it afternoon in Honduras?”

_ “We're only a few time zones removed, Ignis; good morning to you, too.” _ Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, Noctis’ childhood sweetheart and college girlfriend beamed brightly on her end of the video call. Noctis, still flushed, grumbled under his breath.

“A few time zones and a hemisphere.”

_ “Noct, dear.” _ Luna folded her arms, and Noctis sat up again.

“I know. Sorry.”

The only person on the planet who could make Noctis act like a gentleman without using brute force giggled softly. _“It's quite alright. Gentiana's calling me away now as it is.” _

“I understand. Tell Doctor Glacia I said hi. When can you talk again?” Ignis stood back as Noctis gazed back at her, as the two of them said their farewells and made plans to Skype again. Luna had graduated medical school as Noctis was earning his Bachelor's in business management, and promptly signed up for Doctors Without Borders. Noctis hadn't seen her face to face in over a year now. Ignis rarely saw Noctis get especially emotional, but the longing in Noctis’ face when he gazed at her image on the screen was as palpable and heavy as a storm cloud. “It'll be soon, won't it?” He touched a finger to the edge of the camera, and she touched her own cheek.

_ “Not soon enough. Write me, won't you?” _

“I’ll send an email later.”

Luna wagged a finger. _ “And be nice to my brother if you see him.” _

Noctis grimaced. “Ravus.”

“Ravus,” Ignis echoed, surprised at the bitter tang on his tongue at the thought of him. “He is a friend to Lucid, Noctis.”

_ “And while I know he’s a former friend to Ignis, he’s dear to me, and he does try.” _ Luna smiled. _ “Try?” _

“Anything for you, Luna.” He kissed his fingers and pressed them to the camera. “Later.”

_ “Until then.” _

The call ended, the screen went black. Noctis spun in his chair, his usual dour expression settling back in. “C'mon, Specs, what was the interruption for?”

“I did apologize. Truly, Noct, I would never intentionally impede your relationship with Doctor Fleuret, despite my prior dealings with Mr. Fleuret.” Ignis bowed his head. “Were you otherwise busy? I have some designs I'd like to discuss.”

“Oh?” Noctis glanced to the rolled pages Ignis held to his chest, then cleared a space on his desk. 

Ignis unrolled his drafting paper on Noctis’ desk, and Noctis whistled. “You outdid yourself.” He leaned close, studying some of the intricate, swirling details around tiny gems on a ring, the filigree emblem on a choker, the sparkles of the constellation necklace. “These look great!”

“Thank you. I've already done some of the angular calculations for the stones to properly refract light,” Ignis said, motioning to the calculations he'd scrawled on the edges of the pages. “I think the correct beveling will give the gems a gentle twinkle.”

“Brilliant work, Ignis.” That was not Noctis, but instead Regis, who Ignis was surprised to discover standing beside them, leaning on his cane and peering at the pages. He gingerly lifted the first page to examine the one below it. “These are inspired. I appreciate that you incorporated the Lucid motif with modern vogue.” He turned his focus from the sketches to Ignis. “I was unfair yesterday. I wanted to apologize personally.”

“Your sentiments are appreciated, sir, but please be doubly reassured of my dedication to the company vision.”

“‘Beauty as a light in the dark.’ These designs evoke that.” Regis’ finger hovered over the pencil lines on the constellation. “You must tell me your secret to such artistry.”

Ignis’ chest tightened for a fraction of a second, but he cleared his throat. “No secret, sir. Just good old-fashioned dedication.”

“Is that so?” Noctis rocked back in his chair, giving Ignis a furtive waggle of his eyebrows. “You didn't take Gladio's advice, did you?”

Ignis sputtered, but reclaimed his dignity with a little huff. “Noctis.”

“Ignis?” Regis frowned, lips pursed. Ignis cleared his throat again but held his head high.

“A joke between colleagues, sir.” Noctis was frowning at Ignis now, but Ignis turned his eyes and gestured mildly. “No, er, Noctis did suggest I had perhaps overloaded myself and needed to take time for myself. I took his advice and indulged in some relaxation.” There. It wasn't quite a lie. “I suppose it's re-energized me.”

Regis nodded sagely. “I see. I do know how late you stay, after all.” He lifted the top page again, then looked to Ignis. “I won't pry—”

“Thank you,” Ignis said, as Noctis snorted. 

“But Ignis, whatever it is you did that allowed you to conceive these designs?” Regis held the sketches up. “I'd like you to take today off and do the same.” Ignis managed to keep his jaw from falling, though Noctis didn't. 

“Seriously, Dad?”

“Sir.” Ignis’ face was taking heat, but Regis smiled in his diplomatic, ameliorable way. 

“You do overwork. While I wholeheartedly appreciate your dedication, I must ensure every element of my company is well taken care of, and if that means ordering you to take mental health days, so be it. Goodness knows I never have to tell Noct to take a vacation.”

Noctis groaned, as Ignis tried to retain some dignity. “But, sir, I implore—”

“I'll brook no argument. Please, take care of yourself.” Regis held up the sketches. “I'll walk these to our modeling department to create mock-ups. The day is yours, Ignis.” Regis hobbled out on his cane with Ignis’ sketches in hand. Ignis looked to Noctis helplessly, but Noctis just shrugged.

“Hey, if the boss told me to take the day off, I'd be gone by now.” Noctis hopped up. “Go do… whatever it is that put you in your happy place.” He trailed after his dad, hands tucked into his black slacks, and Ignis sighed and dragged his feet back towards his office.

It wasn't even noon yet! He wanted to simply return to work, except he knew Regis would find him and shoo him out. Or worse, send Clarus or Cor to do it. (Hard workers, dedicated, good men but nowhere near as kind or diplomatic as Regis was at his best.) Instead, he wondered what it was he would do. 

A memory of Sil flashed across his mind. Ignis’ heart clenched, and he ducked into his studio and shut the door. Then, he pulled up Sil's contact information. He hesitated a second, then opened the text history. He slowly typed, hesitating and resisting the urge to delete, but finally wrote out, _ “What are you up to?” _

He sent the message and practically threw the phone aside like a hamster that had bitten him, and it landed in the armchair in the corner in front of one of his filing cabinets. He stared at the phone as if he weren't entirely sure it was real, but about a minute later, it buzzed. Ignis cautiously lifted it as if it might bite again, and saw a response: a photograph of the city skyline taken from a high place, captioned with _ “Told ya! Pretty awesome view, right?” _

Ignis laughed. Either Sil was naturally that open, or he turned his amiability on very fast. He could see a few other details as he gave the picture a studious examination: the West facing edge of the Aldercapt building, the raised tracks carrying a speeding bullet train towards the city center, a plastic salad bowl mostly empty of greens and sliced carrots, the tip of a well-loved black running shoe. He dared text again: _ “Out for a run, I take it?” _

_ “Good take. Yup! :-) *running man emoji* *building emoji*” _

Ignis hesitated, but gathered his wits: _ “Would you care for some company?” _ He sent it, then quickly added, _ “If you should sacrifice your personal time to spend with me, I’ll gladly compensate you.” _

Sil's text box showed the ellipses indicating he was typing for what felt like an inordinately long time. Then, his phone lit up with a response. _ “*thumbs up* *peace sign* *heart emoji* Meet me at the corner of Lestallum n 8th @ 2?” _

Perfect. Ignis could get a light lunch and refresh himself before meeting him. _ “Consider it done. I think I'd enjoy company around town.” _

It was just like a date. His time with Sil the night before had told him it could be just that: someone who would spend time with him, talk to him. No expectations, no duty, nothing but the pleasantries of enjoying another person's company. 

For a moment, Ignis rued that he had to pay for friendship. Then he thought of Sil, his easy smiles, his gentle nature, and told himself it was worth it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist#2 - "Toe Jam," The BPA  
  
_Everyday is fucking perfect, its a paradise_  
Watch my life like its a movie, have to watch it twice
> 
> The song Prompto is singing to himself: "I Could Have Danced All Night," from My Fair Lady


	3. Who You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delphi and Sil meet up for a date in the city and get to know each other a little better.

**3\. Who You Are**

Prompto had heard all about Lestallum Boulevard from Cindy. It was the city’s premier elite shopping center, shimmering chrome buildings on marble sidewalks, haute-couture fashions almost too artistically constructed to wear, and elite restaurants that served tiny tastes of paradise. She'd squealed enough to break glass the first time she spotted one of her ads in the rotation on the LED billboards near the Aldercapt Fashions flagship store here. When she had money left at the end of the month, this was her destination, even if she could only afford a cup of gelato. He had run down the boulevard and past all the boutiques that lined the street a few times and always liked looking into the store windows at all the pretty stuff he couldn't afford. Delphi seemed to have good taste. He'd probably eat this place up!

Unless he just planned on walking them to one of the nearby hotels for an afternoon. Prompto could go either way.

Delphi was waiting on a bench near the intersection as Prompto jogged up to him, his battered old sneakers slapping on the ground as he waved to hail him. He immediately felt underdressed in his plain denims and tee: Delphi was dressed much like he had the night before, slacks and suspenders, a patterned dress shirt, a straight black tie, and he looked impossibly cool in the midafternoon heat, lounging like a panther. He stood when he spotted Prompto waving, a faint smile flickering over his features. That was encouraging! He wasn't embarrassed of him!

“Hey! There you are!”

* * *

Sil made casual dress charming. Ignis wondered if he should have dressed down too, but he honestly felt more comfortable as he was. There was no denying, however, that Sil, beaming like sunlight, in plain clothes and his battered sneakers, looked like he was in his element. He was jogging towards him, hailing him with a wave.

“Good afternoon.” Ignis smiled as Sil slowed to a stop in front of him. Sil held out a hand, and Ignis took it to shake it, but Sil dropped his arm without letting go, and swung his hand in his. 

“Good to see you.” He grinned and gave his hand a squeeze, but his grin slipped when he caught Ignis’ eye. “Is something up?” Ignis realized he'd gone slackjawed, and his hand was shaking a little. Sil ran his thumb over the back of Ignis’ hand. “It's just a hand, it doesn't bite. If you're uncomfortable—”

“No, you're quite alright. I wasn't expecting it.” Ignis composed himself—it was just a hand to hold, for goodness’ sake, and likely one of the most innocent touches Sil could offer. Besides, if Sil was escorting him, it made sense. “Is there some reason you wished to meet here?”

Sil looked a little surprised, fair eyebrows bouncing, before reflexively grinning. “It's a cool area! I like running through here to see all the cool displays, or people-watching through the restaurant windows! My roommate told me she window shops here all the time, too. I thought it might be nice if you were just looking to, y’know, spend some time with someone.”

Ignis faintly realized that when he’d called Sil, he hadn’t been sure what he’d wanted. He knew what was expected when someone called a prostitute, and yet he hadn’t been interested in fulfilling that expectation, so to speak, when he’d done it. “Is it…” Ignis pursed his lips, but Sil was rapt already, hanging on every word and squeezing his fingers a little. “Is... simply going for a walk… something you…?” He couldn’t even bring himself to finish the sentence, but Sil grinned.

“Sure! I mean, I go on dates, I’ve been to company functions—sometimes, you just want someone with you. So, that’s okay! Hey, check this out!” Without waiting for Ignis to deflect (as if Sil had realized he was about to deny how much he struggled to find plus-ones for anything for which it was suggested he bring one), Sil used his hold on Ignis’ hand to drag him to a fashion window for a popular men’s fashion designer, a diorama of a giant man donning in-vogue casualwear with his head represented by a brilliant flame, standing tall over a volcano of accessories. He started pointing out elements of the design. “Check it out, I love when they re-do their show window! I wonder how they got the cellophane to look like that!” He pointed at some of the flame effects on the mannequin’s head and the smoke on the volcano. Ignis took a quick look and snapped a finger.

“I believe a heat gun. Used at a distance, with a great deal of fast movements to diffuse the heat, could create that wavering effect. As for the smoke, I imagine they overlaid it with a white mesh and melded the gray cellophane around it.”

“Whoa!” Sil’s eyes went wide, his mouth a soft ‘o’ before splitting into a wide grin Ignis was coming to find both familiar and very pleasing. “Dissolving the magic, huh, Specs?”

“Specs?” Ignis nearly stuttered as he repeated the familiar nickname. Noctis’ nickname for him. Sil raised his eyebrows.

“Sorry, the glasses—and you’re so observant, with those clever eyes.” He grinned again, but tilted his chin bashfully. “If you don’t like it—”

“I don’t mind.” Perhaps Ignis should have drawn the line, but it seemed harmless. Sil beamed.

“Okay, cool!” Then he dropped his voice just a little, so the nearby patrons couldn’t hear them over the hustle and bustle of the street, “Hey, if anything makes you uncomfortable, all you gotta do is tell me! I want you to have fun and enjoy yourself.”

“I—er— thank you. I’ll certainly speak up.” 

As it turned out, Ignis hardly had to speak. Sil seemed to have something to say about _ everything_. He knew something about all of the high-end fashion designers, had some comment about their displays—“The Westwood bridal line is so amazing! Can you believe the lace details on those sleeves?”—or had some rhetorical question about the places they passed. “Oh, man, look at that cheese block!” Sil laughed as they reached a charcuterie store and pointed at a massive wheel of Duscaen Comte bigger than a truck tire. “I like solid moo juice as much as the next guy, but who could eat all that cheese?!”

“I’m not certain one is meant to.” Ignis chuckled at the very thought of Sil trying to carve into the wheel himself with a fork and knife. “A block like that will likely be carved by weight for individual customers.”

“Oh, that makes sense!” Sil snapped his fingers. “Here I figured that someone would, like, take the whole thing for a huge party! Imagine how much fondue you could make with that!”

“Oh, yes.” Ignis chuckled at the thought. “But trying to maintain a batch that large could cause any chef a _ meltdown_.”

Sil blinked, then his face just split and he laughed surprisingly hard. “Oh man! I get it! Aha! —Oh, but! Hey, it’d still be _ gouda_!”

“Indeed, but I’d rather _ Swiss _such a dish out for something lighter.”

“_Brie _ cool, there are plenty of other options.” Sil laughed, then pointed out the leg of prosciutto. “Like that super fancy bacon.”

“Ah, now that’s prosciutto made with pork from a very specific region in Leide, fed exclusively on chocobeans.” Ignis felt his heart warm as Sil’s focus centered on him, eyes bright with interest as he discussed what he knew about the elite meats.

Then, the Lucid factory store came into view, and Ignis’ stomach sank with dread.

Sil slowed down outside of the Lucid factory store, gazing in the windows at the jewelry. “Whoa, that’s what she was talking about.” 

Ignis held back a step as Sil practically pressed his nose to the glass in front of his summer line of rings and necklaces. Ignis prayed Sil asked him no questions about the glimmering gold strands adorned with tanzanite and peridot, perfect to shine against suntanned skin, because Ignis could easily go on for hours and it would too quickly betray his identity. 

However, Sil seemed more contemplative than questioning, frowning at the jewelry until he seemed to realize he’d been staring. “Sorry, my roommate, she’s trying to break in as a model, and she applied to model for Scientia Elite. Like, she’s under contract, but it’s kind of an awful contract and she’s trying to get out of it, so she sent her portfolio and everything, but she never got a callback.” He cocked his head, then looked at the advertisements, a woman clad in bold swimwear, with a tennis bracelet shining on her wrist and a pendant like a blazing peacock visible against her tanned chest. “I dunno, most of this is in gold and rose gold, and with her complexion… Yeah, I guess I get it.” Ignis deliberately bit his tongue, but Sil didn’t seem to notice. “She’s like me, she’s kinda fair, dirty blonde hair, but she’s got these beautiful green eyes… Anyway, cool colors look better on her, so silver’s a better fit than gold.” He stepped back, shrugging. “Maybe she could apply for the winter collection. Usually they do lots of silver and diamonds in the winter collections, since so many people propose around the Solstice.”

“True, very true.” Ignis was content to take Sil’s hand as they wandered on, deliberately looking away from his own work on display. Ignis wondered about that curious, thoughtful expression he’d gotten while examining the advertisements, the deep contemplation and keen observations. Who was this sweet young man, really?

Sil seemed to notice something, and tugged Ignis’ arm. “Oh, I see what you’re looking at, though!” Ignis jerked forward as Sil all but ran in the direction he’d been turning his head, and he halted on a dime in front of some sort of fancy, overpriced kitchen goods store. “Do you like cooking?”

“I… I suppose I see nothing wrong with it.” Ignis did cook for himself when he was home, but he rarely cared more than to simply toss together a salad and grill some sort of meat to put on top. Coffee and toast with orange marmalade was fine for breakfast. He forgot lunch more often than not unless he was escorted to a restaurant. “I suppose…” He trailed off when he saw Sil pressing his nose to the glass at a television screen showing a cooking show, with a handsome chef setting some sort of sauce ablaze.

“Wow! How cool is that?!” Ignis didn’t want to tell Sil he’d seen chefs flambe during tableside presentations at business dinners before; it would likely snuff the sparkle in his eyes. “I wish I had my own kitchen. I mean, I don’t know anything about cooking, but I’d love to learn! I watch cooking shows sometimes, when they’re on, and I don’t get it, but I love to see the food.” The chef poured his sauce, shimmering and rich, over a glistening roasted tenderloin, and Sil sighed. “The chefs on the shows always look so happy when it’s done, and when they serve their food to their friends.”

“Ah.” Ignis furrowed his brow. He had only ever cooked for himself. “I suppose if I were to ever host a dinner party…”

“For your work friends, maybe?” Sil grinned and nudged his elbow into Ignis’ ribs, but it made Ignis think: Noctis, Gladio, perhaps Regis and Clarus, sharing conversation and company in a way that was merely pleasure, not at all work. He could only imagine relishing every second. Noctis’ smile alone was worth a fortune. “Plus, even if it's just for you, chopping stuff up is great stress relief!” He chuckled and pushed back from the window. “Besides, I know that when I'm feeling like I'm in a rut or bored, I try something new.” Sil rocked on his heels. “I'll run a different route, and find a new restaurant and try something I've never had before. Maybe I'll like it, maybe not, but I always like trying something new.”

That gave Ignis a real spark. “Ah, I see what you mean.” Ignis looped his arm around Sil's. “Why don't we take a closer look?”

He'd come out with the intention of just spending an afternoon on conversation and pleasant company, and now he found himself purchasing a new cookbook and a new knife. “You raised a valid point,” he told Sil as he gathered up his bags. “I've been cooking the same things over and over for far too long. Perhaps a new recipe or two will break my rut.”

Sil, inexplicably, had to stifle a giggle, and Ignis cocked his head. ”Sorry, s-sorry! Just, the way you say recipe. It's so cute!”

Ignis’ face was suddenly hot. “Er. I suppose it's the accent.”

“Whatever it is, I like it.” Sil's ears went a little pink. “Do you know what recip_eh _ you want to try first?” 

Ignis flushed again as Sil imitated his accent with obvious glee. “I do believe so.”

“Great!” Sil beamed, rocking on his heels as they left the store. “I'd love to taste test!”

Just like Sil’s idea about the kitchen store and about trying new things, something about that suggestion sparked in Ignis, and he found himself turning to Sil without fully thinking about it: “Would you? Do you have time tonight? Any other appointments, commitments?”

“Johns?” Sil cut right through the artifice with a curious cock of his head. “No, I’m just on call tonight, why—oh, are you—”

Ignis had to stifle a wince at that curious, wanting look in Sil’s face, but he couldn’t stop himself: “I’d love for you to join me for dinner at my apartment.”

Sil didn’t blink. “Yes. Of course, absolutely!” That big smile overtook his face again. “Just say where and when, I’ll be there!”

“Ah, yes, the address—here.” Ignis took his phone out. “For your GPS.” He typed in his address and texted it to Sil. “Provide me with a bit of time to tidy up and make preparations—an hour, an hour and a half, perhaps. You can buzz in with the doorman.” He was far too far into this impulsive venture to stop now: “Ask for Ignis Scientia. He’ll call me and I’ll verify that I invited you.”

“Oh, you got security up front? Must be a nice place.” Sil peeked at the address. “Okay, I’ll go freshen up and be there in an hour or so!” He gave a cheery little wave. “This was a lot of fun! I can’t wait for tonight!” He spun on his heel and dashed back down the market street, looking like he’d just won the plus-sized chocobo plush at a carnival game.

Ignis rather knew he was crossing a line and putting himself at risk. After all, he’d met this person twice, and already telling him where he lived? Even giving out his real name! Then again, this was how he would introduce himself to some new friend he had made in the library or on the train. 

If Sil were anything other than what he was, Ignis may never have spoken to him, and yet, now all Ignis wanted was more of him.

* * *

Prompto practically flew on his feet, doing his best not to squeal. Delphi—_ no _, Ignis! Ignis wanted to see him again! Tonight! Prompto pirouetted in his delight, but flubbed the landing and tumbled off his feet into a heap on the sidewalk. A few people tutted him or skirted him on the sidewalk as he pushed himself up to his feet, taunting, ‘Watch where you’re going,’ but Prompto didn’t care. 

He was going on a dinner date. With Delphi—_ Ignis _ . _ Ignis _ was going to cook for him. And maybe Prompto would finally get his legs around that pretty waist and show him what he was really good for.

“Ignis Scientia, I'm gonna make you a happy man.” He grinned as he rolled to a stand, but his face fell a little when he saw the Lucid factory store again. 

Poor Cindy. She had been dying to model for Lucid, and getting turned down had broken her heart. Maybe he was a little sour on her behalf, even if he understood why she got turned down. “Who needs Scientia, anyway? Maybe the Couer'D'Leon line will put out an open call next time, she looks awesome in leather-”

His brain caught up with his mouth _ exactly _ then. 

Scientia. “Wait, like - ?!” He whipped right back around to the jewelry collection and gawked as the facts started adding up. Scientia. Ignis Scientia. The advertisement on the LCD screen changed to airing an interview with the head designer, _ Ignis Scientia_. Ignis on the screen was studiously discussing design philosophy and light and all sorts of mumbo jumbo, but all Prompto saw was those clever eyes behind that vogue visor, the pomade-slicked bangs, his smooth mouth. _ It was him. _

“You're him.” He stared at the screen like he'd never seen the man before. “That's you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist #3 - "Goons (Baby I Need It All)," Mona  
  
_In sin city with me_  
_You don't care 'bout the who when where or how_  
_You're so free, tell me once again what's your name, name?_


	4. Getting Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis invites Prompto for dinner, and they share more than a meal.

**4: Getting Real**

Prompto bolted back up the steps to his room, still soaring. He was dumbstruck and grinning at the thought of just who he’d been seeing. The witty, charming, reserved, _ hot _ guy he’d been digging turns out to be some sort of celebrity? 

“This is like something out of a movie!” He crowed to himself as he threw the door to his room shut behind him. “Ignis—I wonder if I can call him Iggy?” He laughed to himself as he rifled through his side of the closet, looking for anything that might actually impress someone like that.

Did Ignis being a celebrity change how Prompto was going to treat him? Nope. He was still a client, after all. But Ignis talked to him like he was a person, he held real conversations with him, he laughed at his jokes! Plus, having someone have him as escort and actually acting like they were _ both _ on the date? That was so nice. Prompto was going to make sure he showed his appreciation by giving Ignis the very best of himself.

He bolted for the shower with clean clothes slung over his shoulder and his toiletries basket in hand, readying himself to be the dinner partner a man like Ignis hopefully dreamed of. He emerged from the shower, scrambled into his boxer briefs and undershirt, and styled his hair. Cindy always said his spiked bangs looked like the backside of a chocobo, but Prompto thought it was charming, dammit! Just as he went back to his room to dress properly, he stopped short at a hail from behind him:

“There you are.” 

Prompto jumped, but turned to see Aranea, the house “mother” and head of security, with her back propped against the wall. She tossed her hair, platinum and sleek, behind her shoulder and shrugged her black jacket up her shoulders. “Tummelt said you gave him shit this morning about the home contact.”

Prompto swallowed and tried to force himself to stand straight. “Oh, did he?”

“Yeah, and I told him to stuff it.” She grinned at him. “He’s a weaselly little shit. Most annoying man I’ve ever met. Don’t let him get in that fuzzy head of yours.” She mussed Prompto’s hair, and he yelped and tried to fix it before the gel could re-set. 

“Watch the ‘do!” He laughed as he scraped his hair back into place, and she chuckled along, low and affectionate. “But thanks, Aranea.” He gave her finger guns and winked. “Where would I be without you?”

“On heroin or in the harbor, shortcake.” She smiled wearily and shook her head, her soft ringlets swaying with the same motion. “Just ignore him, kid. I know your deal, you don’t owe him a damn thing. If he gets on you again, just tell him to take it up with me.” She cracked her knuckles against her open palm. “I’ll tell him again.” Then, she gave him a once-over. “So, did I interrupt something? Made yourself an appointment for the night?”

“Uh-huh!” Prompto beamed, showing his teeth. He liked Aranea; she was understanding, never shamed him, always stood up for him. He knew it was because that was her job, but she was really good at it. Feeling like he could trust her made him feel like he had an ally somewhere in all this, like someone was actually cheering him on, even if she did seem a little patronizing. Even now, she was smiling the smile of a good-humored mother to a little boy.

“That’s good! I hadn’t realized we’d gotten any calls.” She winked, her smile a little sharp. “Those first-timer calls are a _ joy _. It’s fun, seeing how nervous I can make ‘em.”

“Aw, c’mon. You should be nice to the virgins.” Prompto playfully wagged a finger, and she tsked him. “But, um, actually it’s the same guy from last night. He wanted to see me again. Um, sorry if that’s an issue, I know I was on-call tonight-”

“Please!” Aranea scoffed, tossing her hair. “Don’t apologize for saving me finding you a client. You go get yourself dolled up, do whatever it is impressed the virgin last night, and blow his mind again.” Her expression sobered, still warm and approving, but a little less condescending. “You could use a regular. It’s nice to see the same person a few times. You get a sense of what they like, y’know? Once you find where his soft spot is, it’s easier to hit it the next time.”

For a second, Prompto teetered on admitting he hadn’t slept with Ignis yet. However, he came up short - he wasn’t alone in the house, so he didn’t want to get the other girls mad. Plus, the fact remained that Aranea’s job was to make sure he was doing his, both in terms of being safe to do it (God help the man who tried to get past her) and putting clients in his path. “I’m working on getting his number, if you know what I mean. That’s why I’m trying to get dressed up, I gotta look good for him!” 

“I believe it.” She carded her fingers through his hair again, and Prompto melted a little. Despite his misgivings, her touch was nice. “Knock ‘em dead, slugger.” She winked. “And wear that blue tie, if you’re doing the suit thing. It brings out your eyes.” 

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I will, for sure!” He about-faced, but he heard her humming:

_ “I feel pretty, oh so pretty…” _

Prompto couldn’t help himself. _ “I feel pretty, and witty, and bright! And I pity any girl who isn’t me tonight!” _ He hurried off to finish dressing, still singing to himself as he made himself as presentable as he could possibly be.

He was going to see the hottest guy he’d ever met. Even if his pants stayed on all night, Prompto wanted to look good for him if it’d make Ignis Scientia happy.

* * *

Ignis had always considered cooking for himself a mundane task. He attempted to reserve it to once a week, preparing a week’s worth of dinners that could be quickly assembled in the morning. It was a chore, a great deal of effort just to maintain one’s energy and health. A necessary inconvenience.

However, cooking for _ someone else _ inspired Ignis the way any form of art might. He knew his way around a chop, a dice, a slice, a mince, a julienne or batonnet, and he could saute, flambe, or fricassee as appropriate. He had selected a recipe of shrimp in green curry sauce over a biryani rice, and preparing the _ mise en place _ had been, as Sil had suggested, soothing. There was a zen in the rhythmic rock of his knife against the cutting board as he prepared and chopped garlic and ginger, sliced red peppers and white onions into ribbons and crescents, and in listening to the pot on the stove bubbling away as the sauce reduced.

There was a buzz from the intercom near his refrigerator, and Ignis set down the knife to answer. “Good evening, may I help you?”

“Mr. Scientia.” Ignis recognized the stoic voice of the evening door security guard. “There’s a young man, Sil, who stated he’s here to visit you.”

“I’m expecting him. Please allow him access.” Ignis returned to the work space and busied his fingers at seeding a serrano pepper. For some reason, his grip was a tad shaky now. He knew he was anticipating serving this dish to someone other than himself. Doing things for his own need was a chore. Doing them to impress another was a matter of proving himself, and Ignis loved a challenge, even one that was self-issued.

Sil arrived at the door not five minutes later, giving Ignis just enough time to measure out coriander and cumin into the sauce before wiping his hands off on a tea towel to answer. He’d come dressed in a black sport jacket and khaki slacks with a white dress shirt and an indigo tie. His eyes sparkled in the white light from the track lights of Ignis’ entry room, and he beamed when he recognized Ignis behind the door. 

“Good evening!” Sil chirped. He was obviously restraining himself, all but vibrating in delight as he looked Ignis over. Ignis was wearing his apron over his day clothes, but Sil was taking him in like he’d never seen him before. Likewise, Ignis couldn’t help but notice how very blue his eyes were as he removed his jacket, popping against that tastefully selected tie. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting!”

“No, you’re right on time. Dinner should be ready in ten minutes. Allow me to hang your coat.” 

“Aw, thanks!” Sil offered his sport coat, and Ignis hung it up in the closet by the door as he ventured into Ignis’ flat. “Whoa! When they say penthouse, they mean penthouse, huh?”

“Ah-” Ignis turned to see Sil gawking around, and examined his own surroundings for the first time in a while. Perhaps the chandelier in the open living area that resembled the phases of the moon was something of a wonderment? The windows, floor to ceiling, were likely something of an eye-catcher as well. He’d actually taken the model unit, so it had come appointed as designed by a professional in black and silver, leather, glass, and chrome. Ignis didn’t spend enough time here to really appreciate all of the design nuance, but Sil was gazing around, forming his fingers into a picture frame as he took in all the details. “I suppose. It was a gift from my employer, to be quite honest. My bonus, for a promotion.”

“Whoa, for realsies?!” Sil whirled around, jaw agape. “I mean, uh, that’s pretty amazing! He must have wanted to make sure you stuck around!”

Ignis suppressed a little laugh as he strolled back to the kitchen. “Yes, true. Er, my employer actually considered condominium design something of a hobby, and he invested heavily in this one. He says he takes pride in putting up solid walls, and when this building was finished, he wanted me here.”

“No kidding. It suits you. I don’t think I could imagine you anywhere else.” Sil beamed, spinning around and perusing the room one more time. Ignis returned to the kitchen, and Sil straightened his tie and followed. “I’m sorry I took so long! When you told me where you lived and I realized it was in, like, this part of the city, I had to go home and shower and get spruced up! I thought a more snazzy look would help me fit in better.”

“Snazzy,” Ignis repeated through a soft chuckle as he returned to putting finishing touches on the evening meal. Sil’s casual mannerisms were charming, even the way he hopped into one of the two stools at the island. He could hear Sil tapping his toes on the chair as he rolled several leaves of basil and chopped them into a chiffonade, then minced a stalk of cilantro without lifting his head. Then, he pivoted to the stove and stirred the pot before finally dishing the food out into shallow bowls next to the stove. He turned around again, and noticed that Sil’s shoulders had sank a little, and Ignis faintly realized he’d been ignoring him. “Ah, apologies; I didn’t mean to ignore you, I … er … tend to get focused.”

“Oh, no!” Sil sat up again all at once. “I understand! Actually, I wish I could just focus on stuff like that. It’s super cool.”

“You flatter me.” Ignis preened, lifting his chin. Sil, being what he was, may have been a less-than-reliable source of compliments, but it was still nice to hear. Besides, Sil was so open, everything he said sounded sincere despite Ignis knowing he was essentially paid to say it. “But here, I’m prepared to serve. Shall we eat at the dining table?”

The dining table was placed near the windows, and in the evening light over the city, Sil seemed to glow. His glow only brightened when he took his first bite of the meal: “Ohhh, wow!” He seemed to catch himself, quickly chewing and swallowing before interjecting, “This’s amazing!” Ignis watched him take another enthusiastic bite, licking his lips. “The sauce is silky, and the shrimp are super tender! And that spice!” He halfway stood up from his place across the table. “You made this for the first time tonight? Never made this before?”

Ignis blinked, bemused. “I’ve eaten something much like it, and I followed the directions precisely and tasted the sauce while I was preparing it. I believe I’ve approximated my previous experience.”

“Yeah, well, it’s basically the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” Sil landed back in his seat, moaning a little as he took another bite. “It’s creamy, but not heavy, it’s spicy and bright, and I don’t think anything’s ever tasted this good.”

“My goodness.” Ignis felt his praise like a fire stoked in his chest. “I shall make it again sometime, then.”

“Mm, God, yeah, you do that.” Sil slid the spoon into his mouth, closing pink lips flushed from the spice around the silver and sucking the sauce off of it. The fire in Ignis’ chest swiftly traveled south as Sil’s tongue worked in his mouth. He crossed his legs under the table and tried a bite of his own cooking.

“Ah, yes, it’s delightful.” It was, to be certain, but Sil’s praise was much more valuable than his own validation. “I’ll keep the recipe.”

Sil stifled a little laugh into his hand, and Ignis withheld the little spike of irritation—just what was wrong with how he said ‘recipe?’—but he met Ignis’ eyes with a genuine smile. “You really should.” He took another bite, licking the back of the spoon with a flick of his tongue, and Ignis cleared his throat. “So, um, Ignis—can I call you Ignis?”

“You may.”

“Can I call you Iggy?” Sil was grinning again now, all boyish mischief and playful tease. Ignis smirked.

“I suppose I don't object.”

“So tell me, Iggy, why aren't you a professional chef? You clearly have the knack, but, uh, you're a designer, aren't you?” Sil's gaze was a little more serious now, though he was still smiling. “Ignis Scientia, at Lucid Designs, right? You're the head jewelry designer.”

Ignis swallowed. He'd expected Sil to put together that he was the very same Scientia, but he hadn't known what it would feel like to have this practical stranger know who he was and still have unfettered access to his person. Still, Sil was an invited guest, and he didn't seem the type to shout his clients’ secrets. 

“Truth be told, it was a matter of good connections as much as anything else.” Ignis began to pick at his plate, turning his sauce into the rice. “My uncle worked for the current CEO's father as a designer, and I was interested in his work. My uncle groomed me and guided me through my schooling and an internship, and I would consult my uncle on his work. Our collaborations caught the current CEO's attention. He took a personal interest in me.” He fished through the dish with his fork and picked out shrimp from the sauce and ate it as Sil nodded enthusiastically. “My designs became popular quickly. Mr. Caelum let me lead my first design line after only two years, and named me head designer after my uncle retired.”

“Wow.” Sil chewed, wheels turning in his head as his jaw worked. “Uh, did the boss ever say what it was he liked?”

“An eye for detail.” Ignis adjusted his glasses. “And a steady hand, not to mention a keen understanding of how best to capture light.” He then motioned. “What about you? However did you come by your livelihood?”

The beat of silence that hit in the wake of that question felt like the crack of a shotgun. Ignis realized he shouldn't have asked, as Sil dabbed his mouth with his napkin. After a moment, he smiled faintly. “Not much to tell, y'know?”

“Ah.” Ignis would have let it drop, but Sil went on.

“It was, uh, kind of a necessity. See, my, uh, my parents, like, back when I was in high school? They were trying to crack down on my video gaming before I had to apply to colleges. They got into my computer to put in some kind of…” He gestured, twirling a hand as he searched for the words, then shrugged. “Y'know, like an internet choker? Something that’d restrict how much data my computer could get.” Ignis frowned, but Sil went on: “But, uh, that was about when I kinda got a huge crush on this boy in high school-” He paused, biting his lip. “Kind of my first crush on a boy. He, um, didn't know I existed. But, he was great. I would'a just died if I could've gotten the nerve to talk to him…" Sil seemed to realize he'd been rambling, and shook it off. “Anyway my parents found out I'd been going on LGBT teen support sites, and, uh, they didn't like that.” Ignis’ stomach sank as Sil fidgeted with his fork. “Like, they wanted to put me into therapy so I'd like girls, and I told them, I do like girls, just, guys too, y'know? And, uh, I guess when someone adopts you, they can un-adopt you, so they did. So I was kind of on the streets." 

Ignis locked his jaw, and Sil quickly went on, "But this company, Versatile, they were offering contracts! Like, to put you up, room and board and everything! And you just gotta work for 'em. Problem is, the only thing I've ever really been good at is photography, so they put me in lots of temp positions, but nobody wanted me.” He scratched his head. “Like, you'd think anyone could sort mail or be a waiter or run a cash register, but I could never meet their requirements. Sometimes, it felt like they made it too hard on purpose, like they wanted you to fail. And, um, the escort work was kind of a last resort, especially since I'd kind of gotten indebted pretty deep by the time they got me into this.” He quickly put on a grin to mask over his crestfallen expression. “But, uh, it's cool! I like this. I like meeting people. I'm a people person. Like, I like people, and they like me, y'know, in short bursts.” 

Ignis couldn't believe what he was hearing, jaw now slack as he failed to hide his horror. “I … that's a great deal to unpack. I suppose I could begin by saying, you're quite pleasant, even for a long stretch.”

“Oh, for real?” He grinned, face flushed, but the smile faded too fast. “I guess not everyone can be people I knew in high school, right? Nobody there liked me much - you won't believe how many of them said I'd die a virgin.” He shrugged and pushed his empty bowl away. “Showed them, right? I'm good at what I do, anyway. It's not forever, though!” He waved a hand, grinning. “After all, I won't be young and cute forever! Plus, I don't mind it, but the work's not, y’know, legal.”

Ignis cleared his throat and looked down into his plate. “So, what is it you plan to do, when you're able?”

“I'm gonna go to college once I've paid off my debt, for photography. That's what I want to do. I want to take photos of different stuff, different angles, different people, as many new things as possible. Even if it's just, like, a school photographer taking portraits of kindergartners every day for the rest of my life! I'd be happy as an oyster in June at high tide.”

Despite himself, Ignis cracked a smile. Endearing, how upbeat he could be despite his difficult circumstances. “You'd be brilliant at it, Sil.”

“Prompto.” Sil looked him dead in the eye, then relaxed and put his hand to his chest. “Um, Prompto Argentum. I mean, I know your real name, it's only fair, right?”

Ignis inhaled sharply, as Sil - no, _ Prompto _ \- crossed what Ignis had believed to be a firm line between service provider and client. However, Prompto laughed at what surely had to be a rather flabbergasted expression. “I know, a guy in my line of business with a name that means ‘fast,’ right? At least it's not Facile, or something!” 

“It's … ironic.” Ignis bit his lower lip. Prompto frowned, clearly having detected Ignis’ discomfort.

“Hey, uh, did I say too much? Sorry, I, uh, well, I've been getting to know you, I kind of thought you wouldn't mind getting to know me some. I mean, just 'cause you asked me to be here doesn't mean we both can't enjoy it, right?”

Ignis was about to answer, and perhaps too honestly, but his phone rang before he could work the words off his tongue. “Ah, apologies.” He rose to his feet, thinking and speaking at the same time, “That's likely from my work. Permit me to take this, I'll be but a moment.”

“Yeah, sure!” Prompto sat back and tapped his palms in his lap syncopatically, and Ignis took up his phone to discover his instincts were correct. His face and fingers were cold as he swiped the screen and answered.

“Good evening, sir.”

_ “Good evening, Ignis.” _ Regis was amiable on the other end of the line. _“I do hate to interrupt your evening.”_

“It's no bother, sir.”

Regis was quiet a moment. _ “You know, I've known you since you were small. You helped my son learn to tie his shoes. I believe you can call me Regis by now.” _

That was oddly nostalgic for Regis. Ignis knew him to be ruthless and diplomatic in equal measures as needed, but he sounded wistful. “Sir - er, Regis, is something the matter?”

_ “Not at all. Quite the opposite. I've decided to formally announce Noctis as my successor.” _

Ignis startled. “Why, sir, I had no idea you intended on retirement!”

_ “I don't intend it, no! Not for many years yet!” _ Regis laughed. _ “But Noct has his Master's now, and he's proven himself as my assistant and apprentice. A formal declaration that the family business will pass from father to son when the time comes is appropriate.” _ He paused, poignant. _ “Noctis has earned this. I do hope you agree.” _

“I believe Noctis will prove capable,” Ignis agreed carefully. “He's young, though.” He eyed Prompto where he still sat, swinging his legs and humming to himself. Prompto looked to be about Noctis’ age. No young man could possibly be so incapable as Prompto had been told he was, could he? Regis, unable to hear Ignis’ wandering thoughts, merely chuckled.

_ “We were all young, once. You're still young, yourself. But in a few years, all young men grow into their roles. Truth be told, I believe Noctis was born to lead, and unless he truly proved to have no interest in taking my place, my position was always his destiny. I merely wish to make it formal.” _ Then, he spoke more soberly: _ “In addition, naming a strong young man as my successor and showing that he's already taking his place in the company will look very good to our investors. You understand, of course.” _

“I do.”

_ “It'll be announced at the quarterly shareholder meeting gala next month, conveniently aligning with Noctis’ birthday. I was actually calling, regrettably, to increase your workload.” _ He laughed rather sheepishly. _ “I would like for you to create some sort of commemorative piece for the occasion. I was thinking of a ring. Cost is no object, I'll reimburse the company from my own pocket for time and materials.” _ Regis paused, cleared his throat. _ “I … had hoped to use the diamond from my wife's wedding ring.” _

Ignis’ heart panged. “Sir…”

_ “Aera would have wanted it.” _ Regis’ voice was taut, briefly fraught with emotion, but he cleared his throat again. _ “I'll save her engagement ring for Miss Fleuret, of course, and I do hope you'll be at Noctis’ disposal when the time comes.” _

“I…” Ignis hesitated, then thought better of it. “I would be honored to participate in your symbolic passing of the torch. Please provide me with information about the stones. I'll begin tomorrow and provide you with my initial designs as soon as possible.”

_ “I'll have Gladiolus bring you the ring and the stones’ certificates tomorrow. You have my thanks, Ignis. Enjoy your evening.” _

“I shall, sir. Be well.” He waited for Regis to hang up, then turned to where Prompto sat, faintly humming still, now looking at the history on his camera. He looked oddly content, not at all annoyed. Ignis was certain he would have been annoyed. He braced himself, and returned to the table. “My deepest apologies for the delay.” 

“Nah, it's okay!” Prompto put his camera away. “Work comes first for you, I get it. You didn't get where you are by blowing off your boss!”

Ignis smiled helplessly. “Yes, you're not wrong. Er, he was asking me a favor: a ring for his son, to celebrate him coming into his own.”

“Aw, that's great! You must be proud of him!” Prompto beamed. “I overheard a little - Sorry - and you sound so proud of the guy! I can see it in your smile when you say his name, too. Noctis, right? You must care about him.”

“Ah, well.” Ignis had never thought himself one to wear his heart on his sleeve, and yet Prompto had seen it clearly. “I've only known him most of both of our lives. He's four years my junior, and I've been tutoring and mentoring him most of his life. He's a brother to me. I'm proud he's proved himself.”

“That's great! I'm happy for him, too!” Prompto bounced a little in his seat. “I know you'll make his ring really nice! You think you might be able to show me a picture when it's done?” He wagged an eyebrow. “Or maybe let me take one?”

Ignis was about to refuse, given the nature of the project, but relented. Prompto meant no harm. The young man could have easily ransacked his flat in the time Ignis had been on the phone, but instead Ignis had seen him sitting where he'd been left, obedient and docile, and humming the theme to some television show. He very likely merely wanted something beautiful to photograph. Prompto didn't seem to have a malicious or deceitful bone in his body. The spark of anger he'd felt had vanished instead of igniting. “Perhaps I can arrange it.”

Prompto put him at ease. Prompto was genuine, sweet, innocent, and kind. Ignis had been pressured to bring a date to these galas for years.

“There's a rather major company event next month. August 30th, to be precise. I'll be debuting the piece there. How far in advance can you make an appointment?”

Prompto's eyes went wide, those blue eyes blown out like the sky after a storm. “You wanna take me?”

“I'll assist you with formalwear, if needed.” Ignis shrugged, lifting a hand. “Lucid's tuxedos are common in rental stores-”

Prompto grabbed his hand. “But you want me?”

Ignis felt his fingers tremble, and looked Prompto squarely in the eye. “I do. I would like to have someone to talk to.” He smiled wryly and turned his hands to take Prompto's. “My closest work friends are the young man of honor, and a man who prefers to occupy himself with whiskey and women during such events. You're a natural extrovert who seems like he'd fit in at any party. And… I enjoy your company.”

He pitied Prompto his difficult circumstances, yes. However, Prompto didn't seem to pity himself. He was vibrant and cheerful, and precisely what Ignis needed. 

Ignis knew he was merely hiring a service, but he likely wasn’t the only one who had to. A good reason not to pity himself. And who could think poorly of him for wanting the company of someone so honestly _ good_?

Prompto squeezed his hand back, his smile warm and genuine. “August 30th? I'll keep that night clear for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist #4 - "Dinner and Diatribes," Hozier  
_Tell me_  
_Tell me_  
_Tell your man_
> 
> The song Aranea and Prompto reference is "I Feel Pretty" from West Side Story.


	5. Making the Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis and Prompto get to know each other better, and Ignis learns more about the web in which Prompto is snared.

**** **5\. Making the Connections**

Noctis, when he came to Ignis’ office, tended to just pop in as if he’d teleported, having discreetly, silently opened the door, crept up behind him, and greeted him aloud, which made Ignis jump a foot every time. Gladio was brash and rude most of the time, but he had manners enough - courtesy of his father ensuring he set a good example for his baby sister - to knock on Ignis’ door, or, today, the door frame. Ignis had left the door open, as well as the window, so he could bask in the fresh air as he evaluated his juniors’ designs. 

“Good afternoon, Gladio.” Ignis said, looking up at the knock.

“Same to you, Igs.” He nodded to someone just outside of Ignis’ view, and Ignis heard retreating footsteps and noticed the box in Gladio’s hand. “Go on and open your safe. Direct orders from the boss, you understand; unless you’re actively handling them, these are locked up.”

Ignis rolled his chair back to access the safe under his desk and put in the code. “Understood, but you’ll understand if I evaluate them first.”

“You mind if I take a look too?” Gladio strolled in, shutting the door behind him. “I’m curious what kind of jewelry the CEO of a fashion company selects for his heart’s desire.”

Ignis smiled wryly. “You romantic, you.” 

Gladio laughed broadly as he put the box on Ignis’ drafting table. “Can’t help it. I love making a pretty girl smile, and Ms. Aera was awfully beautiful when she smiled.” 

Ignis hummed agreement, and ran his finger around the edge of the box to find the seam. He’d met Ms. Aera once or twice, when Noctis was very small, when she was alive. She had been intensely kind, carding lithe fingers through his hair and kissing his forehead like she’d known him since his birth. Ignis remembered her blue eyes, the same as Noctis’, and her blonde hair, the way it brushed over her narrow shoulders. Ignis had thought, in a childish way, that she looked like a porcelain music box ballerina, so frail, so light, but from the way she could rebuke and tease Regis, surely she was made of something very strong. He had been at her funeral, plastered to his Uncle’s side as Regis sobbed uncontrollably over a closed casket, and he’d heard the story whispered over his head a dozen times: a terrible car crash, the Caelum family sedan struck by a drunk driver in a heavyweight pickup. Regis flung from the car. Aera shielding Noctis with her slight frame, already crushed but wanting to die knowing her son lived. Noctis’ spine had nearly broken, but thanks to Aera and years of physical therapy, he’d survived and become a man. Regis was never the same: he’d gone gray before Noctis walked again, and his bursts of temper seemed to be coming more frequently as the years passed, often chased by days of listlessness, especially after an argument with Noctis. She had been loved. She was still missed.

Ignis opened the box and looked on the ring. It was deceptively simple, a single stone in a plain golden band, with a setting of filigree swirls that framed the stone like wispy clouds framed the sun. Gladio grunted as he looked over Ignis’ shoulder. “Not sure what I was expecting.”

“Given what I know of Mr. Caelum, it suits him. His preference is for the basic but beautiful. Observe.” He gingerly removed the ring from the thin satin cushion it was set in, turned it over in his hand, then held it to the light from the window outside. “See how that stone shines? It’s a masterwork in catching light. The cut is ideal, and the setting is unobtrusive. Mr. Caelum’s taste was impeccable.”

Gladio shrugged. “You’re the one with the eye for this sort of thing, so I’ll take your word for it. Is this one of your uncle’s designs?”

“I don’t believe so. I think Mr. Caelum adapted it from one of his father’s designs personally.” Ignis examined the stone where it sat in the ring and absently took notes on the open page of his book. “It’s a shame, but I think I’ll save the setting once I remove the diamond. Perhaps Regis will want it for sentimental value, or he’ll have it re-set in her memory.” 

“Hmm.” Gladio smiled and clapped Ignis on the shoulder. “You were calling me a romantic? You got an opinion on black varnish there, kettle?”

“I’ve never said I was not.” Ignis demurred with a polite smile, then closed the ring back into its box and tucked the box in his safe. “Thank you for bringing this to me.”

“No problem. S’ my job.” Gladio shrugged, arms crossed and eased back on his heel, hawkish eyes running over Ignis in his stool. “Huh.” He smirked, and Ignis felt a sting of suspicion.

“Is something the matter?”

“You’re looking different.” He stood back, propping himself against the door again. “Relaxed. I ain’t seen you actually sitting in here smiling since you got the office.” He smirked a little broader, baring his teeth. “You gettin’ laid?”

“Gladio!”

“C’mon, I’m serious. You’re a good-lookin’ guy, anyone’d be lucky to have you. You get a boyfriend?”

Ignis flushed pink. “And why is that your first conclusion?”

“Can’t think of anything else that could fix you up like that. You’re not struggling for money, and if you had other issues, you would’ve warned me. After all, so long as you’re in this building, I’m your first line of defense.” Gladio swaggered a step towards him, hands set on his hips. “But hey, if you do have a boyfriend, or snag yourself one, you let me know.” He eased another step in and clapped Ignis on the shoulder. “I’ll give him the shovel talk.”

“Hmph.” Ignis brushed him off. “I can handle myself, thank you.”

“Whatever.” Gladio shrugged and pivoted. “Well, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. Catch you later.” He swaggered out, and Ignis sighed to himself, then looked to his notepad. Then, he spun on his stool to his writing desk and grabbed his cell phone.

The alias “Sil” was still in his phone. An oversight. Prompto felt so much nicer to say. Ignis changed the name, then sent him a text: _ “Dinner and conversation at 7?” _

Prompto responded with six thumbs-up emojis. Ignis smiled, endeared, and returned to work.

He could pretend he wasn’t paying for it. 

* * *

“And then what?” Cindy laughed and poked at Prompto’s shoulder, not missing a step. He laughed, stumbling then jogging to catch back up as they continued their easy lap around the block. 

“We did the dishes. He washed, I dried!”

“Shut up!” Cindy laughed and gave him a shove. “You seriously got called twice in one day for a shopping date and then a private dinner?!” 

Prompto tumbled, but laughed and elbowed her back. “It was more like an extension! I just came home to change and stuff!” He felt his phone buzz and jumped. “Oh, shit!” He pulled his phone out of his back pocket. Ignis’ number wasn’t saved in his contacts - _ bad plan _ to hold on to client information, full stop - but Prompto recognized it now. “Oh, that’s him!” He texted back his answer. Cindy tugged his arm.

“Ooh, hon! He likes you!” She winked. “You bag that cash!”

“Ha! Yeah!” Prompto choked out a laugh. He faintly realized that he’d forgotten to charge Ignis. Aranea had taken care of it the first night. After that, it had been his responsibility to record the visit. He had not done it either time. Then again, he’d kept his clothes on the whole time, so did it count? “Well, I’ll see what I can do! I better get nice clothes on.” 

Cindy went to continue on her jog, and Prompto circled into the house to put on something cute. Maybe Ignis would want to take it off of him this time. 

* * *

That night, Ignis tried a risotto recipe with sauteed scallops. Prompto praised every sumptuous bite. Then, Ignis took Prompto out for a streetcar ride to see the city lights. He’d seen the streetcars a thousand times and had pleaded with his uncle to take him, but Uncle had always been too busy. Prompto was in much the same boat: “I saw ‘em going around the city, and I was curious, but it’d be lame to go alone and my roommate kept saying it’d make her sick to hang off the side like that.” Prompto had grinned. “Are we gonna hang off the side?”

Ignis and Prompto held onto the outside of the car as it trailed along the bus lanes and toured the whole starlit city, the skyline brilliant against the summer night. The thrill of zipping through the streets in the open air with Prompto laughing and chattering at his back, taking pictures as the sights flew by, was a rush Ignis couldn’t have imagined.

Ignis probably still would have enjoyed it alone. However, holding Prompto’s hand as they stepped down, smoothing down his windswept hair and letting Prompto fix his, that was a treat just as nice. “Thank you for coming with me. It was a delight.” His fingers halted where they were carding through Prompto’s hair, and Prompto giggled, then took his hand and kissed his fingers.

“Aw, Specs. The pleasure was mine.” He smiled, brighter than sunlight, then held up his camera. “You wanna see my pictures?”

Ignis did.

* * *

Ignis poured himself into designing Noctis’ ring. He’d known him since he was six, so he was certainly familiar with his tastes. He favored the gothic look when he didn’t have to wear a suit, still wearing all black like a mourner, and Ignis noticed that he’d gotten skull cufflinks. Ignis had no intention of adorning his friend’s gift with a symbol of death, but he could at least take inspiration from the aesthetic. He’d decided a white gold setting would suit Noctis’ complexion, but he would have an obsidian art-deco windowpane overlay for the diamond to gleam through. The light needed to pop against the black. It was a challenge Ignis found himself eager to tackle.

The other challenge was Noctis himself. Regis had told Noctis he was to receive a special honor at their gala, and Ignis had seen the color drain from Noctis’ face. Ever since, Noctis had been hiding behind his work, sullen and withdrawn. Ignis overheard him on a video call with Luna:

“They’re all going to be looking at me. I… I know it’s my job, but…”

_ “It’s a great deal of pressure, Noctis, but you can handle it. You are strong enough.” _

Noctis grumbled. “Maybe. It feels like a test. I’d hate to disappoint Dad.”

_ “He won’t be disappointed as long as you do your best. Be confident! Just talk to the investors like you’re talking to old friends. They want to know they can rely on you, so just be your regular, intelligent self.” _ Luna sounded so genuine, it swayed Ignis. Noctis still kept his head low. _ “Walk tall, love.” _

“Dad says that, too.” Noctis covered his face, and Ignis decided that his questions for Noctis could wait.

Noctis wasn’t a coward, not by any stretch of the imagination. Just introverted and perhaps somewhat aloof. He’d grown up isolated after Aera’s death, after his injury, and he had never been made to reach outside of his inner circle for companionship. Ignis considered himself a friend, but he’d been delivered to Noctis, gift-wrapped, as the ward of his father’s employee. Same with Gladio, to boot. Luna was the younger child of one of their business partners. Noctis had never had to make such connections himself. Regis was a true diplomat, able to smoothly wine and dine everyone he came across during these events then return to shutting himself up in his office nine-tenths of the time. Noctis preferred to huddle in a corner far from the hors’d’oeurves or bar and fidget on his phone, only speaking when spoken to, the truest form of ‘making an appearance.’ Ignis had no idea how Noctis would handle having this much attention put on him.

It wasn’t his job to worry about it, but Noctis was his friend. He poured his fretting into every etched line on the design, hoping he could bring at least one positive thing to the evening.

He thought again as he returned to his work and took up his cell phone. He would bring two positive things.

* * *

It was a Lucid event, so wearing Lucid was practically a given. Fortunately, the tuxedo rental store on Lestallum Boulevard stocked and supplied Lucid tuxedos. Ignis owned one, and Regis had even allowed him to customize it (no other man owned a purple leopard-print dress shirt with the Lucid label and custom cut, to be certain), but Prompto would need one, and a rental would suffice. Prompto seemed a little bit intimidated as he gawked at all the suits on mannequins, and Ignis noticed him glancing at the price tags on the suits for sale.

“I’ve never worn anything like this before. A suit sometimes maybe, but this…” He looked to Ignis, questioning. “Is it okay?”

Ignis restrained his horror at Prompto’s hesitance, instead turning his focus to the swatches he’d been reviewing. “It is more than okay. My only concern is that your best color won’t look quite right next to my preferred formalwear.” He found the purple swatch used for his shirt and held it up near Prompto’s face, already picking out other swatches from the reel. “You’ve got such a lovely complexion, I imagine nearly any color would work. Would you prefer to match me, or would you prefer to stand on your own?”

Prompto startled, turning around all the way, eyes wide. “Oh, um, what would you be more comfortable with?”

Ignis was so tempted to ask Prompto to complement him with navy blue accessories that wouldn’t clash with him, in a color that would match his eyes and fair skin and make him look mature and debonair, but Prompto was unique, and Ignis liked him that way. Moreover, Prompto wasn’t an _ accessory _ selected to accentuate him. He was his own person, and just because he was accompanying Ignis didn’t mean Ignis owned him. “I would like you to surprise me.” He handed the swatch reel to Prompto. “I prefer a black tie and a royal purple shirt, if that affects your decision at all, but I want you to select a color or a pattern and surprise me.”

Prompto blushed, pink under his peachy freckles. Ignis let go of the swatches, smiling already. “I eagerly await your decision. Shall we have you sized?”

Prompto was a sight in a tuxedo, even the model off the rack for the fitting. Without showing his body, it accentuated his trim form, the fine lines of his neck and clavicle, his round shoulders, his slender waist, and the fine black wool made him sleek and smooth. Ignis was of the opinion that a suit enhanced any man’s appearance, and Prompto was no exception. He turned a few times in the three-way mirror, looking at himself from every angle. Ignis noticed him trying to look at his own backside, then adjusting the waistband of the pants as he did. Then, he turned around to Ignis, pushing up a nervous little smile like a small schoolchild stepping in front of the photographer for the first time. “Um, do you think I look good?”

Ignis returned a smile, genuine in his encouragement: “Absolutely fetching, pet.” He winked, and Prompto laughed. Even the tailor fitting the suit to Prompto chuckled as he worked.

“You’ve got a narrow waist. I’ll have to go down a size in the pants.”

Prompto went pink again, and his smile turned real and too brilliant. “Wow, for serious? I was worried!” Ignis pushed his glasses up and laughed through his nose, delighting in Prompto’s unbridled joy over such a simple thing.

Prompto got a text as Ignis was filling out the payment paperwork, and Ignis noticed him returning it, catching the response out of the corner of his eye: _ “Sry busy :( Maybe next time!” _

Somehow Ignis had forgotten that others might want Prompto’s attention. Might want the very same claim on his time. 

“Would you like to join me for dinner this evening?” Ignis wanted Prompto to have the choice. To his delight, however, Prompto beamed again.

“I’d love to! What’s on the menu, Iggy?”

Ignis smiled. “I’ve prepared a slow-roasted pork loin with a mustard rub. I put it in before I came to meet you, but it should be lovely and tender by now. Shall we?” He offered Prompto an arm, and Prompto took it.

Ignis wondered how much choice Prompto thought he had in that single action.

* * *

Prompto was kept, effectively. That was certainly what his situation had sounded like to Ignis.

Ignis spent a lonely evening cooped up in his office until far too late, researching the company Prompto had mentioned - “Versatile,” not to mention “Idle Pursuits” - to find out just what sort of companies they were. Ignis searched public records, court records, everything he could think of, but what he discovered was curious. Idle Pursuits was a “Doing-Business-As” pseudonym for Idle Holdings, Inc. Versatile Investments appeared to be a temp agency, but it was definitely owned by the same entity as Idle Holdings, Inc. However, the trouble was that both of those entities were then owned by another company, Sole Interests, LLC. That company was owned by Bethesdia Select, Inc. _ That _ company was owned by Proverbial Interests Partnership, which was owned by Ardent Investments, and before Ignis ran out of canned coffee and willpower, he’d dug up a circle of nineteen different companies that took him cyclically back to Versatile Investments owning the company that owned the company that, apparently, owned Prompto. 

“The company founded itself,” he wondered in a daze as he rose and gathered his things. There was something unspeakably suspect about that, but Ignis was uncertain of what to do about it just yet. A long row of shuffled shell companies, and whatever game this person was playing, Ignis had no idea how to overturn the right one to find what he was seeking beneath. 

As he stepped into the hall, he noticed one other light still on: Cor Leonis in his corner office, burning the midnight oil. Ignis remembered that Cor had to have his prototypes done by the end of next week, and sometimes stayed late so he could do what he needed without disturbing anyone. He decided it would be rude to leave without a word, and peered in. Cor Leonis had a radio playing classical music and was busy welding something in a custom-built cubicle. Ignis knocked, and Cor looked up over his shoulder and raised his face shield.

“Scientia.”

“Mr. Leonis. I wanted to let you know I would be leaving, though I believe Regis is still in his office.”

Cor hummed, his ice-blue eyes settling on Ignis for a long moment. “Clarus and Nyx are still here too. Nyx is on night shift, Clarus is getting the quarterlies together for the big meeting. Thanks for the courtesy.” He switched off his torch. “Something on your mind? You’re getting those wrinkles back between your eyes.”

Ignis frowned. “I beg your p—”

“Here.” Cor touched the worry lines at the bridge of his own nose. “You’d been looking your age again for a few days there. Design trouble again?”

Ignis braced himself as Cor studied him intently. Leonis was ex-military, a Marine who’d worked his way up to being a Master Sergeant before retiring to pursue design. He’d gotten an interest in metalwork when he took a few years working with the repair corps, and channeled it to Lucid, but he’d retained the attitude of a soldier and commander. He was not the kind of man one could lie to, so Ignis never entertained trying. “Personal business, quite frankly. I’ve been researching a company with whom a friend of mine seems to have an illicit contract, only to find it appears to be a shell company owned by nesting shell companies.”

Cor raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like someone has something to hide.” He peeled off his Kevlar gloves and rubbed his head. “Sounds like something a rival of Mr. Caelum’s does. He buys stock on the sly using shells and subsidiaries, buying us up piecemeal through legal entities and transferring ownership to himself. It’s something Clarus has been watching; we think the old codger’s got pretty significant ownership by now, so we’re concerned he might try to sway the rest of the major stockholders. Worse, if there’s any conflict or loss of investor confidence and he’s able to pick up more before we can stop him…” Cor hummed uncomfortably, as Ignis shivered at the implications. “Bottom line is, it’s never something you want to see. What kind of business is your friend involved in?”

Lying wouldn’t work, but propriety might slide. “I’m afraid it would be inappropriate for me to discuss the nature of my friend’s issue with you without his permission.”

“Ah.” Cor furrowed his brow. “I’ll respect... his privacy, but if it’s serious, talk to Regis. I’m certain he’d tell you a friend of yours is a friend of his, and surely he’d help you work something out.” He looked Ignis straight on, that gaze piercing through him like a needle. “The man sees you as a son. He watched you grow up. He’d hate to think of you—or someone you care for—in danger of any sort.”

Ignis swallowed, but nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Leonis. I’ll take your words under advisement.” Cor nodded sharply, and Ignis departed.

He checked the time on his phone as he reached the front security desk, and Nyx Ulric, a retired Lance Corporal with a prosthetic arm up to the shoulder. Nyx had served with Gladio in the Galahd conflict, and had worked at Lucid at Gladio's recommendation after discharge. (He never talked about the injury that claimed his arm. Ignis never asked.) Nyx waved as Ignis passed.

“Be safe out there, Mr. Scientia. Oh, and if what Gladio says is true, congrats on the boyfriend.” Ignis jolted a little, then whipped around on Nyx, who was smirking a little bit. 

“I wouldn’t advise listening to everything Gladio says. Good night, Nyx.” He checked the time on his phone again. Just past midnight. Prompto had said his curfew was 2 A. M. He was probably occupied with another client, anyway. 

Ignis went home alone and went to bed without dinner, his appetite lost in the maelstrom of his unsatisfied curiosity.

* * *

The next time Ignis called Prompto, it was to see a performance of “Be My Canary” being put on at the Alexandria Theatre, just outside of the main entertainment district. Prompto had never been to see live theatre before, and Ignis had to shush him a few times from their place in the box over the stage when he got excited by the practical effects used to create a storm, or the impressive footwork during the staged swordfight. However, by the time the romantic hero made his final appeal to the princess, Prompto, though overcome with emotion, kept his lips sealed tight so he wouldn’t start crying and interrupt the scene.

He bought the soundtrack on the way out, and Ignis was sure he was humming the thief's plea to the princess on the car ride back to his building.

The next encounter was another meal Ignis wanted to prepare for him, orange-glazed squab with roasted baby potatoes and Brussels sprouts, but the true allure was dessert. Ignis had decided to tackle shortcrust pastry, and presented Prompto with a strawberry-rhubarb pie. Prompto’s eyes went wide at the sight of it, the crisp golden pastry in a lattice over the ruby-red center, and he actually trembled a little when Ignis cut a slice and presented him with a plate. “I had something of an affinity for strawberry-rhubarb pie when I was younger, but it’s rarely sold in stores, so I equally rarely have it these days.” 

“It looks so pretty, I’m scared to ruin it by eating it!” Prompto turned the plate around a few times, bringing his knees under him and hunching over the pie as he examined it. Ignis snorted. 

“It would be wasted if it weren’t eaten.” He was already eyeing the rest of the pie and wondering if his subordinates would enjoy some dessert after lunch tomorrow. “I do so hate wasting anything perishable or precious. It disrespects the sacrifice it took to acquire such materials.” Prompto nodded, clearly understanding.

“Well, let’s not be rude, then!” He took up his fork, split off the tip of the pie, and took a bite. His eyes went wide, and he lifted the plate up. “Igs. Iggy. This. This pie.” He licked his lips, finding a little golden flake of crust on the Cupid’s bow under his nose, then whipped around on Ignis. “This is the best pie I’ve ever tasted.”

“You flatter me.” Ignis carved himself a slice and took his seat across from Prompto, but Prompto shook his head insistently.

“No, no, really! Like, chess pies, like pecan pie and stuff, are all _ way _ too sweet, and pumpkin pie is yuck and why would you even put sweet potato _ in _ a pie, like, _ seriously__— _” Ignis suppressed a snort at Prompto’s excited babbling, but Prompto didn’t notice, ranting on, “and apple pies don’t actually taste like apple half the time, and the mushy apples just make me feel like I’m eating baby food, but this! This pie! It’s just right! This is the best pie ever!” He took another bite and moaned a little. “Oh. Em. Gee. This is officially my favorite pie.”

“How very _ sweet _ of you.” Ignis took a bite for himself as Prompto broke into a giggle fit. It was, of course, delicious, more so than he recalled. He would cut Prompto a larger slice next time. 

“Hey, hey!” Prompto beckoned Ignis over, and when Ignis leaned in, Prompto whipped out his cellphone. “Pie selfie! Say ‘strawberry!’”

Ignis startled, then laughed, and Prompto snapped the photo. He got a few more quick snaps, then scooted around to let Ignis see. Ignis peered at the screen as Prompto hemmed and hawed over the photos, until an incoming text popped in at the top of the screen:

_ “Hey prettyboy I need your face between my legs. Get that fine ass over here. I’m waiting at” _

Prompto gasped and yanked the screen back. “Oh, jeez, sorry! Let me just— uh—” Prompto hurried to type a text back. Ignis threw himself into his chair and forced himself to avert his eyes, adjusting his glasses and trying to pretend he hadn’t read any of that. Prompto’s cheeks had gone redder than the pie filling. Ignis’ face felt warm too.

It wasn’t like he was unaware that Prompto had other clients, of course. Prompto didn’t cease to offer his services when Ignis didn’t call. He saw other clients on nights when Ignis didn’t call him. _ Hire him. _ He was hired by clients who did much more than feed him pie and enjoy his cheerful company. Whoever that man contacting him was, he likely preferred Prompto’s body to his soul. He preferred his mouth to his smile. 

“Did you have another engagement to attend to?” Ignis couldn’t quite look at Prompto. Prompto put his phone away.

“Nah, I’m here ‘til curfew.” Prompto picked his plate up and turned back to Ignis, smiling against a tight brow. “Sorry, usually I don’t like answering texts while I’m having a meal with someone.” 

“It’s your job; I understand.” Ignis pulled his plate towards them. Prompto took another bite, and his face lit up all over again.

“God, it’s so good. Man, if I never ate another dessert, I’d die a happy man knowing I got this one.” He licked his lips and fingertips, then dove in again. Ignis was satisfied with that.

“You know, compliments like that only push me to outdo myself. You’ll have to live and make certain you can try my next effort.”

Prompto beamed, and Ignis pushed away his jealousy again. Nobody else got that particular smile, Ignis was certain.

And yet, Ignis was still paying for it.

* * *

Prompto got back to the boarding house well before curfew. He was quiet on his way up the stairs past the love hotel levels; easy enough, his feet were light. He felt a little like he was floating on air. 

Ignis always made him feel that way. 

Prompto felt like he should have been paying him.

Thinking about it made his feet touch the ground. Ignis had _ spent money _ on him. Ignis pampered him. Ignis took him places and took him home, and Ignis seemed to want to please him like one would a real lover, or a friend. He didn’t even make Prompto do anything to earn it. He was literally just paying for Prompto’s company.

Or not. Prompto hadn’t been sure whether or not to even charge him for most of their encounters. He’d kept putting it off, on the fence if he’d actually earned what he was about to ask for - if it was an exchange, what had he given up? His time, sure, but what else was Prompto doing with it? It wasn’t like he could afford college on the pittance he was left with after he paid towards his debt and his monthly room and board. Maybe his time was worth something, but how much? And Ignis was already paying for so much—not that Prompto had even asked for it!—could he really ask Ignis to pay for the privilege of paying for him? 

Besides all that, Prompto enjoyed himself with Ignis. He kind of forgot he was supposed to be getting paid to have sex with him. Even if the night started with a date or a party, nine-tenths of the time, it ended in sex. (The exceptions were mostly whiskey dick, erectile dysfunction, lost nerve, or on one, very awkward occasion, the client’s husband coming home too early.) Ignis hadn’t even asked. Ignis hadn’t done anything more intimate than touch his hand or arm. 

How could Prompto charge Iggy for his time when he enjoyed the time they shared?

He’d come to a halt on the fourth floor, lost in thought, feet too heavy to move, and found himself staring at a chipped corner of the floorboard like it might have some answers for him. He was jerked back to reality again by a hand on his arm.

“Freckles!” Loqi had seized him, but before Prompto could twist out of his hold, he was frog marching him down the hall towards the telephone office. Loqi threw him into the office, and Prompto found Ulldor waiting for him. Ulldor was the most senior guard, with a nose that had been broken a few times, greasy-looking slicked back black hair and a paunch under his rent-a-cop uniform. He rose from the rotating chair to stare Prompto down.

“This one? Argentum?”

Loqi yanked the door shut behind him. “Yeah, Freckles here skipped family contact again.” 

Ulldor sniffed and turned to pull something up on the computer, and Prompto felt a cold sweat beading on his forehead. Loqi was a weaselly little snipe, but Ulldor was an actual problem. Prompto saw his file appear, a picture of his face tagged on the screen. “Yes, this one.” Ulldor whipped around on him. “Getting picky with clients, are we? You’ve had six rejects in the last three weeks.” He drew himself up tall. “Really? Do you think you’re too good for our clientele?”

“No, just, all six of those called when I was already with a client!” Prompto tried not to whine, but it wasn’t working. Loqi cackled.

“What, your ass can’t handle more than one in a night?”

“You have no record of another client.” Ulldor tapped the screen, his fingernails scraping the glass. “It's pointless to lie, you know.”

“Idiot,” Loqi sneered, but Prompto elbowed at him. 

“Shut up! Look, I had a client! I've just forgotten to input the charges!” His face burned as Ulldor drew himself up, rising from the chair, and Prompto lowered his eyes as Ulldor drew his hands into fists.

“You're either lying, or you are a complete idiot. One would think you'd eagerly take any scrap thrown your way. After all, until you earn enough to pay what you owe us, we _ own _ you.” Ulldor seized his chin and forced Prompto to meet his eyes. “We own your body. Everything you do is for us. You're just another dime-a-dozen hole for someone to stuff, and if you start refusing what's offered you, you will force us to take away that choice!”

The office door burst open just then, and Aranea shoved her way past Loqi. “Whoa!” Ulldor flinched as Loqi tumbled into the wall, and Aranea's favorite security guys, Biggs and Wedge, followed her in. 

Aranea threw an arm around Prompto. “Alright, Cal, what the hell gave you the right to talk to the kid like that?”

Ulldor went purple, though his knuckles were still white in his clenched fists. “He's rejecting clients. I've always objected to them having any say in who they take, we have clients to satisfy!”

“Merchandise like this is too valuable to abuse.” Aranea clenched both of Prompto's shoulders, and as much as he wanted to be grateful for the rescue, being called _ merchandise _ made him feel stiff on all his edges. Ulldor just snorted at Aranea.

“You have no idea what it takes to maintain our bottom line. Impertinent woman.”

“The kid's got a favorite. If this guy's calling him over and over, that means a regular client with steady spending. It's that one virgin from a few weeks ago, isn't it?” Prompto nodded, and Aranea smirked. “Thought so. He got a taste, he keeps calling.”

“He didn't enter any repeats,” Loqi groused as he picked himself up. 

“You been forgetting to put in charges?” Aranea gave Prompto's ear a tug. “I know you have the appointment app.”

“Y-yeah. My bad.” He tried to look sheepish, but he had a feeling it went over like an undercooked pancake, sloppy and flat. Aranea patted his shoulder.

“See? He'll get it together. Stay out of his way and let him work, and keep your grimy hands off of him unless you're paying for it.” With that, Aranea frog-marched Prompto back out. He heard her whisper to Biggs and Wedge as she passed them, “Thanks, guys.” They left, and Aranea walked Prompto to his door. “You good, kid?”

“Thanks to you, Aranea.” Prompto groaned with relief. “Sorry for the trouble.”

“It's fine, kid. I don't trust that Ulldor, try to stay on his good side, or far away from him.” She rolled her eyes. “And make sure you record your visits. You might not get paid if you forget.”

“Sorry,” Prompto repeated, then remembered: “Hey, um, my regular guy said he needed an escort to a company thing of his next Saturday. Can I just block out that afternoon and evening, and turn my phone off?”

“Make sure you charge the guy for every second, kid. Your time is valuable. But yeah, go for it.” Aranea set her hands on her hips. “You got something to wear?”

Prompto thought of the rented tuxedo Ignis had arranged for him, and how he'd picked his own accessory colors. He thought of the fond, affectionate way Ignis had studied him as he'd pulled the tuxedo on. “Um, yeah. Got an outfit all picked out.”

“That's the way.” Aranea mussed his hair. “Just remember, you give him what he pays for, but make sure he's paying for it. Remember, you're a commodity. Like me. You think I'd be here bullying you if Aldercapt weren't paying me?” 

Commodity. Merchandise. Owned. He felt his mouth wrench down as the notion settled in his head and heart like ice. “Y-yeah. I guess.” Like his camera, he thought, a useful item, but still an item, to be used and used well, even if well-cared for, then to be put away when he was done or forgotten when it failed. Aranea must have noticed his difficult expression and patted his cheek.

“It's rough. I know. Just pay your debts, and you'll be free.”

Prompto swallowed his pride. “Got it. I'm gonna hit the hay.” He turned and opened his door, and found the room dark. Cindy was fast asleep already. Prompto settled on the bottom bunk, only to find paper rustling under him. He stifled a groan to find Loqi had left paper and pen for him. The family contact stuff, of course. 

Fine.

Prompto found a pen and shoved his phone with the flashlight on into the slats of the upper bunk, and wrote:

_ “Ignis: _

_ You called me again tonight. I know your number by heart now. It's the only one I want to see. I don't have any contacts in my phone and I don't have a lot of friends, and it seems like everyone I meet is quick to throw me away. You keep calling. It makes me feel like someone actually wants me for me. Every time we meet, you make me feel like a person. If I have to owned by someone, I wish it could be you. I wonder if they'll let you buy me? _

_ Love, Prompto” _

“Family contact,” he mumbled as he stuffed the envelope. “At least he might be happy to hear from me if I wrote to him…”

The gala would be soon, he told himself. And maybe Ignis would call him again before then. He could forget he was supposed to be bought and sold.

* * *

Ignis called Prompto a few nights before the gala, this time for a long walk around the park nearest his condominium and a primer for what to expect the night of the event. Prompto took his hand, and Ignis held his attention as they walked and he talked:

“Most of our guests will be more interested in talking to me. You'll likely be known as a guest, a plus-one, so others will acknowledge you, but they may not engage any further than congratulating me on having found a beau.” 

Prompto shrugged, nonplussed. “No problem. I've been arm candy before.”

“Now, now.” Ignis laughed through his nose. “I'll need someone to laugh at my jokes, or to make jokes back with me. You'd be surprised at how boring these events can be. I'll be content to have you there to turn to.”

“Emotional support, got it!” Prompto gave a thumbs up, and Ignis laughed again. 

“Don't be shy, either. You need not tether yourself to me, you're not a dog on a lead. If you do mix and mingle, all the better. Have a drink, if you'd like. Make conversation. I'd rather like to introduce you to Noctis; I think you two would get on like a house on fire.”

“Sure.” Prompto actually sounded uneasy at that, toeing at a pebble on the path. “I'm leaving with you, right?”

Ignis realized what he'd said and what it might sound like to Prompto, expression clouded despite the dappled sunlight through the trees that should have lit him up. “I'll drive to and from, of course. You're with me.”

Prompto's brow lifted with relief. “Awesome. And yeah, I'll see if I can _ catch _ your friend…” He winked at Ignis. “But you're the only one I'm burning up the dance floor with!”

Ignis had to laugh at that. “That pun was a stretch, darling.”

Prompto went red, but he poked Ignis’ side so hard he stumbled a little. “Yeah, well, you still laughed!”

“Laugh I did.” Ignis stepped back into place, smiling warmly at Prompto as he cleared his flush and beamed. “One more thing.”

“Anything for you, Igs.” Prompto took his hand again and squeezed. Ignis, despite himself, squeezed back.

“Bring your good camera.”

Then, the night came. Ignis picked his tuxedo up from the cleaners and Prompto's from the rental store, and called Prompto two hours before the event was to start so he could dress. Ignis dressed while he waited, his usual purple shirt and plum slacks and jacket. However, his fingers fumbled the buttons on his favorite silver leopard-patterned vest, his mind lost for a minute as he thought over everything again, certain he'd forgotten something, that something was amiss.

It didn't come to him, and he continued to await Prompto's now-familiar knock on his door.

Prompto was right on time, face scrubbed clean and smelling like he'd just showered. He had a camera bag slung over his shoulder, which he hung by the door when he removed his shoes and coat. Ignis showed him to the spare bedroom with the bag containing his suit. “Let me know if you need assistance with any part of the suit. I'll just be making a phone call.” 

“You got it, chief.” Prompto saluted, then yanked his tee up over his head with no prologue. Ignis pivoted away at the first glimpse of the swath of creamy freckles on Prompto's taut back. 

Had he failed to notice the toned cut of Prompto's body? Or was he just surprised to see someone so very practiced and unhesitant to strip down?

Had he seen Prompto undressed before? 

No. 

He tamped down his wandering thoughts and took his phone out, dialing Nyx. Nyx picked up promptly. _ “Something wrong, Mr. S?” _

“Not in the slightest, I'm merely at home getting prepared. I wanted to ask you to do me a favor.” Ignis heard a muffled swear from down the hall, and peered back towards the bedroom. Prompto wasn't beckoning him. “Tonight, at approximately eight, Regis will be giving a keynote address and giving Noctis a present. The present is locked in the safe in my office. You have my key and combination, and I fear I won't be able to leave the event to fetch it.”

_ “Say no more. I'll bring up your present for Noct at around eight, hang by the ballroom door and text you when I'm waiting. You can just slip off to the door and I'll slip it to you.” _

There was a crash behind Ignis, and he whipped around again as his heart jumped. “My thanks. I'm afraid I must prepare, forgive me for cutting this conversation short. See you shortly.” He didn't wait for Nyx's farewell before hanging up and hurrying to check on Prompto. 

Prompto hadn't shut the door, and was only in a half-buttoned gray dress shirt and black pants as he picked up an old photograph of Uncle and a stack of books that had been left on the dresser. Prompto turned when Ignis rushed in, cheeks already pink like a painted doll's, and he gestured to the pants. “Um, the latch is funny. There's like, straps, and I dunno where they go, and…”

Ignis was already stifling laughter. “Dear, ridiculous thing. The elastic straps are for fitting. Come here, let me help you.” 

He helped Prompto adjust the slacks, then assisted him in buttoning the shirt. Then came the vest, and Ignis pursed his lips when he pulled it out. Prompto had selected a red tartan, striped with black and threaded with silver. He turned, holding it out. “Plaid?”

“I thought it'd look badass.” Prompto grinned sheepishly. “It's okay, right?”

Ignis smiled and shook his head. “It is, yes. It's you. It's you I'm bringing with me, exactly as you are.” 

He helped Prompto button the vest. He managed the tie on his own, and let Prompto tie his own shoes. The jet-black jacket and trousers were bold against his fair complexion, and the whole ensemble was a sight, a touch punkish, yet passing as formal. Prompto would be unique, a priceless treasure among the status quo of men's fashion. 

Then, a thought occurred—Prompto's hourly rate. He rarely checked the numbers, confident in his monthly take that his expenses were covered, but given how often he'd hired Prompto, perhaps he should make certain. He turned and pulled up his banking information in his phone to ensure there would be enough in his checking when the debit came out and move funds from savings as needed.

The checking fund was far too high. He checked the debits and saw only one debit from Idle Pursuits. “Prompto?” 

“Yeah?” Prompto glanced over his shoulder at him as he stood, dapper and polished in his black tux, accented with pops of crimson plaid under the jacket. At this angle, he looked more like a man and less like a boy, but his bright eyes still hinted mischief while his habitual smile curved his face and made all of his angles stand in perfect harmony. Ignis swallowed as those big blue eyes landed on him, and he almost didn't want to speak. 

But he had to. “Your, er, your fees. It appears I've not been charged properly.”

“Oh.” Prompto rubbed the back of his head, suddenly looking too young again. “Um. See, most of those times you called? Like, when you made me dinner or took me on dates? I didn't count those. That wasn't work for me.” He fidgeted with the cufflinks—little skull buttons. It was easier to look at the buttons than the discomfort on Prompto's face, as obvious as a black eye. “So I wrote them off. It doesn't seem fair, y'know?” 

Ignis didn't know what to say. He furrowed his brow, inclined to scold him for undervaluing himself so, but how dearly did he wish he could pretend Prompto wasn't hired affection! Before he could decide what to say, Prompto came around the bed to join him and took his hands. “What're you wearing that look for? We're gonna have fun!” Prompto grinned with all his teeth. “When's the party start? Soon, right? Like, I get you're a designer but you don't want to be fashionably late!” Ignis was jerked from his rumination, startled when Prompto took his hands. “Let's go!” He began to lead Ignis towards the door.

Ignis had a lot of questions for Prompto. He wanted to untangle him from his complicated situation. He wanted to know what Prompto thought of him, what he thought they were doing. He also wanted to admire him in his fine dress, hold his hand, kiss him senseless, make him laugh. But he couldn't do all of those yet. Not tonight.

Tonight was not the night to deal with the things he couldn't reconcile. Tonight was for Noctis, so he let Prompto take him by the hand and escort him to the elevators.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tracklist #5 - "El Scorcho," Weezer  
_I'm a lot like you, so please_  
_Hello, I'm here, I'm waiting_  
_I think I'd be good for you_  
_And you'd be good for me_


	6. The Gala

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis takes Prompto to the company party, exposing his hidden relationship more than he intended and learning a few things he didn't expect...

**6\. The Gala**

The Citadel Skyscraper, the crown jewel of the Lucid Headquarters Complex on Lucis Street, had hosted fashion shows and stockholder galas before, and the top floor had a ballroom and auditorium for such events. Regis spared no expense, and Ignis knew the room would be ornately decorated, glowing and beautiful in black and silver. There would be a host of servers in matching uniforms carrying hors d'oeuvres trays, wine and champagne would flow. Regis would have hired a tasteful band, perhaps a jazz quartet, to provide mood music and, later in the evening, dancing tunes. There would be valet parking.

Ignis was grateful for the last at the moment, as he did not relish having to find a parking space near the building when there were this many visitors and the summer air was thick with humidity. Prompto was, quite obviously, simply thrilled to be in the front seat of Ignis’ car as he pulled up to the city block that constituted HQ, pulling up behind a line of fancy cars and watching people in their very best dress emerge onto the sidewalk. He babbled in wonder, rattling off the names of designers and commenting on the dresses, and even recognizing a few of the city’s elite, the rich and famous types who appeared on tabloid covers and some of the better known Lucid models. Ignis couldn’t suppress an amused smile and let him talk, but as they reached the valet, he interrupted with a question:

“Did you bring your camera?”

Prompto inhaled sharply, eyes alight, then reached into the pocket of his tuxedo and showed off his camera. “Yeah! You said I could, right?”

“I did.” Ignis got out of the car, then circled to Prompto’s door and offered him a hand as the valet got in and adjusted the seat. “I’m certain I’ll ask you to take a photograph or two, but don’t hold back on my account. I only ask that if you take a picture of another person, you ask them first.”

“Can do!” Prompto hadn’t let go of Ignis’ hand since they’d gotten out of the car, and naturally slid his fingers in between Ignis’. “I don’t do people unless it’s friends, to be honest, or if someone asks me. I can’t wait to see the ballroom, or the view from the top!”

Ignis’ chest felt too warm even accounting for the summer sun, but he walked close to Prompto, enjoying the closeness. “For my part, I cannot wait to show you.” 

Ignis noticed a few of the other guests glancing sideways at Prompto in the elevator, but he also caught a few whispers and a few smiles. A model who’d worn his jewelry for the spring season tittered to her friend, “Mr. Scientia’s date is a cutie!” Prompto seemed to hear, and gave her a wave and a flash of a grin, then held Ignis’ hand even tighter. Satisfied that Prompto’s status wasn’t immediately obvious, Ignis was comfortable strolling into the ballroom, hand in hand with Prompto.

The ballroom was strung with black and silver streamers and curtains, the chandeliers had been dressed in twinkling silver stars, and jazz music was already winding through the room, giving the room a sense of lively ease. There were round tables arranged around a dance floor dressed with black and white tablecloths and vases of white flowers, but nobody was seated. The guests, in evening gowns and tailored suits, were milling about, drifting between conversations and the appetizer table or following servers carrying trays of hors d’oeuvres. Regis was waiting by the door, sans cane (but with Clarus at his side to help him to his chair later), shaking hands as everyone came in, and Ignis was no exception. He caught him by the hand, beaming. “Ignis, welcome! And—splendid! I see you’ve brought a date!”

That seemed to be the magic word to catch Noctis’ attention, as he appeared from behind Regis as if he hadn’t been hiding back there. He locked his focus on Prompto, already grinning, as Regis extended a hand to Prompto and Prompto shook it with all the manners of a dutiful kindergartener meeting their teacher. “Good evening, Mr. Caelum. Thank you for allowing me to come!”

“It’s no trouble at all, young man! Ignis was the one who invited you, and I’m glad he did!” Regis made a point of nudging Noctis. “A man as handsome as him shouldn’t be single at events like this.”

“Yeah, or he’s got to fend off cougars all night.” Noctis let a smile slip, and Prompto laughed. “What’s your name?”

“Oh, I’m Prompto!” Prompto held his hand out to Noctis. “It’s nice to meet you—”

“Noctis. Noct’s fine.”

“Oh, you’re Noctis! Happy birthday!” Prompto beamed, and Noctis looked surprised, but not unhappily so. In fact, when the surprise wore off, he was _ very _ happy. “It’s really nice to meet you! You look way cooler than I thought! Iggy said a bunch of nice stuff about you!”

“Did he?” Noctis shot Ignis a cheeky side-eye. “Sure would be nice if he’d say it to me.”

Ignis smirked back at him. “How will you ever learn to appreciate yourself if I have to tell you?”

Noctis scoffed, and used Prompto’s hold on his handshake to pull him away from Ignis. “Right, so, just for that, I’m stealing your boyfriend and introducing him to Gladio. C’mon, Prompto, you’re with me, ditch the grouchy ball and chain!” Prompto turned back to Ignis with a look that was half-panic, half-laughter as Noctis hauled him off, but didn’t dig in his heels before Noctis could vanish with him into the crowd. Ignis blinked a few times, surprised, and Regis chuckled. 

“That’s the most excitement I’ve seen out of him in ages. Also, I believe the young man is the first of our guests to wish him ‘happy birthday.’” Ignis startled, realizing he’d neglected to do the same and finding his face warm. Regis chuckled. “Now, now; you didn’t have a chance. You can pass on your sentiments later. Please, Ignis, enjoy the party once you’ve retrieved your beau.” Regis gestured for Ignis to enter, and Ignis passed him by, seeking out Prompto as he made his way over to the bar for a refreshment. He soon spotted him with Noctis, hanging by the appetizer tables and chattering animatedly. The two of them were very obviously the youngest two in the room, and they did make a pair. 

“So, the little blond guy’s with you, eh?” Gladio had sidled up beside him, eyebrows wagging as he leaned against the bar beside him. “You told me you didn’t have a boyfriend.”

Ignis felt his ears get hot, but maintained a neutral expression as he waited for the bartender to pour. “I never denied that I’d been seeing someone.” 

Gladio laughed, deep and rich, and elbowed Ignis in the side a few times. “Oh, come on! What, you didn’t wanna just say ‘cause Nyx was there? He knows you’re gay. Shit, Igs, everyone knows you’re gay!”

“I prefer to keep my sexual preferences personal, thank you.” Ignis shot Gladio a searing look. Gladio just snickered.

“Whatever. I’ve only ever seen you get hot for guys, anyway.” He twisted his neck back around to Prompto. “He’s a number. Where’d you dig him up, anyway? He doesn’t look like he’s in the industry, he looks like a club kid or something.” Ignis’ anxiety crept up, as Gladio turned his focus back to him. “What, did you go cruising the nightlife after the old man chewed your ass? Ha, if I didn’t know you better, I’d think you actually called that escort place I told you about.”

Ignis’ mouth tightened. Gladio saw, and whipped around on him, eyes wide. “Igs.”

Ignis cleared his throat. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“No, no no.” Gladio was scowling. “You flinched.” He dropped to a whisper. “You called a hooker?”

“Escort,” Ignis hissed back, shooting a look over to Prompto. Still all the way across the room, talking with Noctis. Well out of earshot. Gladio was keeping his voice low anyway, clearly trying to keep the bartender and any other guests from hearing:

“Don’t tell me you brought a hooker as your date!”

“The proper term is escort.” Ignis pinched his brow. “He is escorting me.”

“You,” Gladio whisper-roared, exploding as quietly as a man possibly could, “have got to be fucking kidding me!” Ignis reached for the wine glass the bartender set down for him. 

It seemed there would be no convincing Gladio. “I've 'kidded’ everyone else so far. You’re the first one to notice something amiss.”

“You think people aren’t gonna notice some twink going around giving out his number so he’s got other options for when he’s done with you?!” Gladio seized his collar. “What the hell are you—”

“Yo! Gladio!” Noctis had arrived with Prompto in tow, beaming, and Gladio slid his hand from Ignis’ neck to his shoulder before Noctis noticed. Fortunately, Noctis was absorbed in Prompto as he marched him towards him. “You gotta meet Iggy’s boyfriend! Prompto, this’s Gladio!” Prompto gawked up at Gladio for a second, then extended his hand. 

“Oh-man-he’s-huge.” Ignis could practically hear Prompto skipping the spaces and punctuation as Gladio stared him down. “Um. Hi!” And then Prompto was beaming again. “You work with Iggy too?”

“Yeah.” Gladio drew himself up, chest out. “Head of security. I was in the Marines for five years before that—served the front lines in Galahd and everything—so I don’t miss a thing.”

Prompto blinked a few times, then shook his extended hand which Gladio had ignored. “Well, um, put ‘er there then! Your aim’s good, right?”

Gladio blinked once. Twice. Then realized Prompto was teasing him. He smirked and grabbed Prompto’s hand, squeezing more than shaking. “A funny guy. Cute.”

“Iggy thinks so, anyway.” Noctis, expression light with amusement, nudged Prompto’s shoulder as Prompto pulled his hand back and discreetly shook it off behind his back. “How long have you been seeing him, anyway?”

“Only a few weeks.” Prompto grinned, but Ignis caught him looking at him in quick little glances, as if expecting to be corrected. “He’s so great! He makes me dinner and we go out to shows and-”

“You cook?” Gladio frowned at Ignis.

“Yeah!” Prompto piped up before Ignis could. “He’s the best!”

“Prompto,” Ignis chose to add, with a look directly at Gladio, “was concerned that it seemed I had few hobbies outside of work. He thought I might enjoy cooking as stress relief. I’ve taken it up, and it turns out, I have a knack for it.”

“He’s the best,” Prompto repeated. “Like, I couldn’t believe he’d never really cooked before. He made me curry and there was a roast, and this _ pie _ _ — _I haven’t eaten so good since, um, forever, honestly!”

Gladio and Noctis were both staring at Ignis now, Gladio in obvious confusion, and Noctis with surprise. “Well, you’re gonna invite me over for dinner sometime, right?” Noctis crossed his arms, obviously pretending to be put out.

“Yeah. Me too.” Gladio cocked his head, brow furrowed, but too surprised to push the subject. Prompto nodded and slid up to Ignis.

“You should totally invite your friends over, Iggy.” He kissed him on the cheek and whispered a soft “_ sorry! _” before standing back. Ignis felt his heart soften a little at Prompto’s earnest smile.

“I certainly shall. Most recipes in retail cookbooks are written to feed four anyway. I sincerely hope you don’t mind sharing my company.” He carded his fingers through Prompto’s styled locks, and Prompto chuckled, flushing under his freckles, and swiped his hair back into place.

“No way! You gotta show ‘em how good you are!”

“Alright, the flirting’s getting gross.” Noctis hailed the bartender. “Rum and coke for me—anything for you, Prompto?”

“Hmm, just water, please.” Gladio was glaring daggers at Ignis the second Prompto turned his attention to the bartender. Ignis bit his tongue as the bartender poured for the two of them, but broke into a smile when Prompto dodged around Gladio to plant one more kiss on his cheek. “You don’t mind if I hang with Noct a little longer?”

“Have fun, darling.” Ignis kissed his nose. Then, he realized something— _ this was the first time he’d actually kissed Prompto’s face. _ Prompto beamed, and let Noctis lead him off again. Gladio advanced on Ignis, but before he could say anything, Clarus approached.

“Here you are. Gladiolus, come assist me.” Clarus led him off. Gladio kept turning back towards Ignis, mouthing ‘_ we are NOT done _,’ but Ignis turned his attention away and took a long gulp of his wine to seek Prompto out again. 

Amazing, how with nothing more than a friendly word and smile, Prompto had become thick as thieves with Noctis. Ignis was very nearly jealous, except he, too, was familiar with Prompto’s natural charm and cheer. Noctis had quite obviously picked up on it as well, Ignis noticed, because as easily as the two were talking with each other—Noctis laughing, eyes crinkling, as he spoke, Prompto animated, showing Noctis things on his phone, and showing every emotion in his heart as plainly on his face and in every bend of his body as if they were labelled images—Noctis wasn’t the only one engaging with Prompto. Whenever someone came to talk to Noctis about something or other, Prompto was right there, and Noctis was letting Prompto do all the talking:

“My, my, young Mister Caelum!” Ignis recognized a wealthy woman, one of their top investors. “A pleasure to see you again.”

“Yes.” Noctis sounded robotic already. “The pleasure is mine, Miss—”

“Hey, hey!” Prompto popped in, beaming. “Don’t forget to wish him a happy birthday, ma’am!”

The woman laughed. “Of course, of course! It’s your birthday, isn’t it? Happy birthday!”

“Thank you very much.” Noctis bowed his head. “I hope you’re enjoying the party.”

“Isn’t it amazing? Lucid really goes all out!” Prompto chattered on, letting Noctis sink behind him just a little bit. “You have got to try the crab salad shooters in the puff pastry shells, they are to _ die _ for.” The woman, laughing, responded to Prompto, with only minimal contributions from Noctis. The clever boy had found a way around his introversion: latch onto an extrovert. Prompto always seemed to have something to say to anyone, a joke, a witty quip, an opinion to share, and it kept the conversations moving and kept Noctis from slinking off to a corner by himself.

“Odd to see you smiling.” Someone was next to him, and if Ignis had been smiling, that person’s presence knocked it out of place. Ignis glanced left without turning his head, only to see a familiar sharp nose and jaw, hawkish eyes with distinct heterochromia, and platinum blonde hair pulled into a short ponytail. Ignis knew that face too well. Though years had passed since he’d come to memorize it, he still hadn’t gotten over never wanting to see him again.

“Ravus.” Ignis bowed his head. “It’s been some time.”

“Too long.” Ravus’ gaze lingered. Ignis tried to ignore that keen sense that he was being stared through. “Has it been long enough since I’ve offered you a position designing for Cartanica Imports directly for me to make my offer again?” Ravus turned to face Ignis, a wine glass balanced elegantly between his narrow fingers, his mismatched gaze affixed to him. Ignis scoffed and continued to watch Noctis with Prompto, as the two had a friendly conversation with Dino, a reporter from The Citadel Sun newspaper.

“My regrets.” Ignis shot Ravus a bitter little smile. Just a few yards away, Noctis laughed at one of Prompto’s jokes, the reporter smirked and noted something down, and Prompto covered his flushed cheeks. “Unfortunately, no matter how much time passes, my loyalty remains with Lucid.”

“A pity.” With that, Ravus sauntered towards Noctis, and Ignis subtly wove through the room to listen to their conversation: 

“Happy Birthday, Noctis Caelum.” Ravus’ expression was as pleasant as if he’d just tasted spoiled milk. Prompto raised an eyebrow, still grinning.

“Ooh, hey, hey Noct, what’s this guy’s beef?”

“I’m dating his sister. You’re dating his ex. What’s up, Ravus? How’s business?” Noctis managed to sound cool as Prompto stifled a snicker at Ravus’ sour expression. 

“As good as ever. Busy.” Ravus shrugged, forcing his mouth neutral. “I had a rather interesting conversation with a gentleman from Aldercapt earlier this year.” He gave his wine glass a nonchalant swirl, then took a sip. “He stated that they intended to buy Lucid out by the end of this year.”

Ignis felt a jolt to his gut, as Noctis crossed his arms. “I hope you told him he was full of it. We’re doing just fine.”

“As little as I like the company of this particular representative of Aldercapt, he sounded reasonably certain.” Ravus took another long sip. Prompto scoffed and tossed his hair.

“People can say a lot of things they don’t mean. Words are cheap, action’s what you gotta look for! Until this guy’s trying to write a check for this place, I wouldn’t take stock in any of it.”

“Stock is the problem. Izunia was saying he and his cohorts collectively have nearly 25% ownership, and with the Caelums only possessing 40% and the Amicitias possessing 10%, and Mr. Scientia possessing 2%, if something should happen to the closely-held shares or any of the other major shareholders, there could be trouble.” Ravus took a sip of his wine, holding his head haughtily high as Noctis scowled at him. “Your position is more precarious than you realize. One crash at just the wrong moment, and your little kingdom comes tumbling down.”

Noctis frowned, and Ignis saw him glance sideways towards Regis, where he was chattering with a few of the other long-time trading partners and shareholders. “Is that so? We’ll have to see about that.” Prompto just scoffed.

“Whoever this Izunia is, he needs to get laid instead of figure out ways to mess up Noct’s day.” 

Noctis chuckled, and Ravus wrought his eyebrows up into an unimpressed wrinkle. “I only speak out of concern for my sister. After all, it seems that despite my concerns, she’s utterly taken with you, and I’d prefer she throw her life away for the affections of a man with employment rather than none.” He sauntered away from the two of them towards the bar, and Ignis turned and followed him, weaving through the swelling crowds of people in evening wear and shallow conversation to chase his intrigue.

“Ravus.” Ignis hailed him as they both reached the bar. He set his wine glass down. “You were speaking with Izunia?”

“My personal dislike of him doesn’t mean our company won’t do business with him or Aldercapt.” Ravus’ face relaxed somewhat as he watched the bartender fill his glass. “Why do you think I invited you to Cartanica again? I know your talent, and I’m concerned it will be lost here.”

“I appreciate the offer, but Regis Caelum made me the man I am today.”

“By having you play nursemaid for his layabout son and brainwashing you into loyalty?” Ravus raised an eyebrow, then sighed and turned his attention to his glass, as if unable to look at Ignis a dreadful moment longer. “That loyalty is something I admire about you, so I don’t know why I bother to complain.” 

“I don’t know why you bother to try to flirt.” Ignis pursed his lips and tore his eyes away. “We didn’t work before, and I doubt we’d work again.”

“If you insist.” Ravus’ mouth twitched sideways, and he returned his attention to his wine glass. “I admit, I had thought when you did find love anew, you would seek out someone of your caliber, or at least someone who could match your intellect.”

That stung like a bitten tongue. Ignis found himself wounded on Prompto’s behalf. “I prefer someone who makes me happy, and whom I can please in return.”

“And just how can a simpleton like that—” Ravus gestured with his wine glass towards Prompto and Noctis— “Accomplish that?”

Ignis sucked his cheeks in. “It’s not an accomplishment, it’s a feeling.”

“Yeah,” Gladio interrupted roughly as he bellied up to the bar on the other side of Ravus. “Besides, if Iggy were looking for someone as smart as him, he’d be looking forever. Ain’t gonna find anyone in this room, anyway.” He smirked like a wolf, teeth gleaming, and Ravus huffed and threw back the rest of his wine glass.

“If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.” Ravus stalked off with the poise of someone who would rather be screaming, and Gladio turned back to Ignis. His smirk faltered at Ignis’ melancholy gaze.

“Uh. So.” He turned away from the bartender and slid close to Ignis, and lowered his voice so the others around them couldn’t hear. “Talked to your hooker again.”

“I implore you—”

“Prompto. Prompto. Talked to Prompto.” Gladio held up a hand as a peace gesture. “Uh. Kid said Noct told him all about me. He asked about my tour of service. Then he asked to see my medals. Then, my scars.” Gladio tapped the top corner of the scar on his chest. “Then, he offered to get me a fresh drink, then he got me a whiskey sour, tipped the bartender, and thanked me for my service. Then he asked if I’d ever ridden in a tank and _ then _ asked how cool the tank ride was.” Gladio sniffed, not quite looking at Ignis. “And you know what, he was actually legit curious. Hanging on every word.”

Ignis found he couldn’t meet Gladio’s eyes either, instead gazing down into the swirling sparkles of the quartz bar top. “That sounds precisely like the Prompto I know.”

“He said I was the absolute coolest. He meant _ that _ too.” Gladio pinched his brow. “Igs, he’s a fucking _ doll _.”

Ignis sighed. “Isn’t he?”

“How the hell,” Gladio went on, gesturing towards Prompto, then shook his head. “No, no. Why? Why did you bring the hooker as your date, just for him to turn out to be a literal ray of sunshine?!”

“Isn’t he just the brightest thing?” Ignis pinched his brow again. “I truly had intended on utilizing his services as advertised, but then he kissed my hand and talked to me about me, with genuine concern for me, talked to me like I was just another person. He’s not just a prostitute. His name is Prompto, and he’s a perfectly wonderful young man.”

Gladio furrowed his brow. “Igs, I hate to tell you, but sometimes wh— prostitutes use fake names.”

“He did. It was Sil. It’s derived from his surname, Argentum, the classical name for silver.” Ignis slumped with his back to the bar. “He gave me his real name when he learned who I was.” Ignis heaved a sigh as Gladio deflated again. “And even then, he was only a little starstruck, the dear thing. He’s immeasurably bright, genuine, affectionate— He’s a good man. Anyone would be grateful to have his company.”

Gladio mulled this over, sipping at his refreshed drink. “Guess so. So long as they pay for it. Alright. Enlighten me, then: how’d he get sucked into sex work?”

“Entrapped, he told me. Every opportunity he had failed him, and in exchange for housing and food, he signed himself into effectively indentured servitude, and that indentured servitude, unexpectedly, turned out to be sex work.” Gladio strangled a surprised grunt, and Ignis lowered his eyes. “He claims he doesn’t mind. He claims that once he pays the debt he owes them, he’ll be free. He wants to be a photographer, but I don't care what he does as long as it's not _ this _. I simply can’t imagine how one can be happy in a life like this.”

“I dunno, man.” Gladio exhaled and shook his head. “He sure as hell seems happy when he’s with you, though.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” Ignis gazed across the room again, seeking Prompto’s bright hair, his boldly patterned tie and vest, his natural glow. Sure enough, the throng of revelers under the twinkling lights seemed to part as Prompto returned to Ignis. Prompto extended a hand slowly, and Ignis pushed off of the bar on his back heel to take it. Prompto pulled Ignis towards him and kissed him on the cheek again.

“Sorry about that! Noct is a lot of fun, though! Promise me you'll invite him to dinner soon?” Prompto beamed, gripping both of his hands, but his face faltered after a moment. “Unless, um, you'd rather keep our stuff, y'know, private. Just you and me.”

“I'll have to make more opportunities for 'just you and me’ time.” Ignis tousled his hair. “It would be nice to see Noct outside of obligation. He's a friend, work or no, and truly, he looks so happy with you at his side.” Prompto giggled a little as Ignis traced Prompto's hairline down to his jawline. “You're a delight. You bring out the sparkle in everyone you talk to.”

Prompto was such a sight lit up with praise, Ignis hardly wanted to look away, but a buzz in his pocket distracted him nonetheless, and Ignis checked his phone to see a message from Nyx:

_ “Kitchen door, west side of the ballroom. Got the package.” _

“Ah, it's that time.” Ignis pointed to the head table. “You'll see a card with my name on it, with two chairs. Go along and take a seat, I'll join you straightaway.”

“You got it, Iggy.” Prompto half-turned, but halted. “Can I get you another drink?”

“They'll bring around champagne shortly. A water will suffice.” Ignis bowed in gratitude, and Prompto saluted with a grin, then bounded off. Ignis turned to the west, the double swinging doors that led to the kitchen, and spotted a familiar silhouette in the window. He approached and swung the door, and Nyx grinned as he stepped back, keeping the pair of them out of the way of passing waiters. Nyx was already eating a vol-au-vent filled with venison and roasted parsnips off of a black napkin.

“Looks like the boss went all out for his baby boy's birthday. Think Regis will mind if I hang for the speech?” 

“Weren't you invited?”

“Yeah, but I declined.” Nyx wiped his fingers on a napkin, fished into his jacket, and took the small box Ignis had expected from a zipped inner pocket. “All these old rich people.”

“Our shareholders and benefactors, plus our employees.” Ignis flipped the box open, reassuring himself one last time.

“If it were just employees, that's fine, but the rest.” Nyx shook his head. “Folks like that aren't my preference. You gotta be able to trust a guy to drink with 'em, you know?” He slicked his hair back, eyes turned aside, pensive. “Still, it's Noct's big night, too.”

“It is.” Ignis smiled wryly. “I doubt Regis will mind you loitering near the bar if you just want to see the big moment.”

Nyx grinned with all his teeth. “Thanks. You can let him know I'm here, if you like. Go on, I'll give you a head start.”

Nyx stood back as Ignis sidled out of the kitchen and went to Regis. He passed the box off to him, let him know Nyx was there to see the big moment, and Regis whispered his thanks before going to the head table and tapping his glass to get everyone's attention. Most of the revelers quickly found their seats as Regis began to speak:

“Friends, it is with gratitude I welcome you all to our summer gala…”

Ignis found Prompto waiting at their seats with waters, smiling too eagerly. “Hey Igs!” He took Ignis’ hand under the table, whispering under Regis’ practiced booming tenor. “Just like you asked. Also, they had these roasted asparagus tarts and I thought you'd want one.” Prompto had two tarts on his plate and transferred one to Ignis. Ignis realized he hadn't eaten much since dinner, and gratefully took a bite. 

“Hmm. Delicious, but I think I could improve the recipe.” He glanced to Regis, listening for where he was in his usual stump speech to their investors. He'd heard some version of it twenty-odd times now. Prompto fidgeted a little; Ignis could feel him swinging and jiggling his feet. “Is something wrong?”

“Um, that Ravus guy, you talked to him after me. Sorry if I made him mad at you. I didn't know you and him had dated—I mean, Noct told me—but I should'a been nicer—but he was talking smack! So—”

“Saying we were exes exaggerates. Noct makes more of it than it was.” Ignis took and squeezed Prompto's hands under the table. “It was three dates and one company function, and correspondence. I found him boorish to everyone except those he'd decided to like, and boring otherwise. He would rather I take up with him again, but I've no intention of doing so. Don't mind him, and don't mind upsetting him.” He leaned in close to Prompto and whispered, “I'm here with you, aren't I?”

Prompto was pink now, face flushed and hot, and it couldn't be from the summer heat. He glowed hot in the cool mood lighting, but though Ignis longed to sink into his joyful presence, he heard a new line from Regis: “Tonight also marks another special occasion, as most of you know: the twenty-fourth birthday of my son, my scion, and my protégé, Noctis Lucis Caelum.” There was a smattering of applause, which Prompto joined. Noctis, at his seat beside Regis’ spot, blushed and sank down a little, even as Regis motioned. “Please, Noct, won't you join your old man?” He turned at the waist to beckon him, leaning hard on his cane, and Noctis hurried to his feet to stand beside him. “Here he is, the man of the hour. Noctis has worked hard proving himself since graduating college with his Master's degree.” Ignis would have joked to Prompto that _ he'd _ earned that degree for how much of Noctis’ homework he'd helped with, but now wasn't the time. Regis was still singing Noctis’ praises. “He's contributed greatly in contract negotiations, as well as consulting on our 'Dark Future’ line of men's haute future fashion, and he's gone to lengths to show me how he intends to see Lucid into his vision for our continued success. It is with this in mind that I wish to announce that I have formally designated Noctis as my successor.”

The room erupted with applause, as Noctis turned to his father with shock on his face, and Regis shook his hand, then pulled him into a hug. Noctis was shell-shocked, but not unhappy. Ignis saw his mouth move and was certain he had said, “You mean it, Dad?” Ignis couldn't see whatever Regis murmured into Noctis’ ear in response, but he noticed Regis beckoning him with a wave.

“A moment.” Ignis rose and went to join father and son, as the pair of them pulled apart. Regis shook Ignis’ hand, and discreetly pushed the ring box into his hand in the motion.

“You do the honors, son,” Regis murmured, and stepped back, leaving Ignis holding the box. Ignis stood before Noctis, as Noctis, still wide-eyed with surprise, stared at him. He bit his lip, and Ignis shook off his nerves and stepped forward, box in hand. He hadn't planned to speak, but he had enough in his heart for Noctis that he was certain he could find the words.

“Noctis, I've watched you grow up and into a fine, proud young man. I have faith in you, faith that when the time comes, you will lead Lucid into a bright new era with vision and inspiration.” Noctis bit his lip again, but Ignis smiled reassuringly. “I intend be at your side to help craft that vision, of course, and I believe, above all else, you will shape our future and shine a brilliant light for all of us.” He extended his hand. “Your father asked I prepare you a gift, as a symbol of your growth, and of his trust in you to lead when the day comes that he cannot.” Ignis had to suppress a stammer. “The stone was once your mother's, a promise made to her by your father.” Noctis’ eyes widened as Ignis opened the box. “I ask that you wear this as an oath to him, to carry on his legacy. This is a symbol of everyone's faith in you, Noct. Bear it with pride.” Noctis took the box.

“You said… this was from my mom's ring?” He turned the ring over in his hand, clearly straining not to look completely floored. “You designed this, didn't you?”

“I did.” Ignis put his hand over Noctis’ open palm and the ring. “Take it also as my oath to do this for you, and more.”

Noctis swallowed as he withdrew his hand, then slid the ring onto his right middle finger. “Thanks, Iggy,” he whispered, almost too small to be heard. Ignis merely smiled, his heart fluttering just a little.

“Happy birthday, Noct. Would you mind having your picture taken?”

“Yeah, sure!” Noctis adjusted his jacket as Ignis motioned to Prompto, beckoning him, then holding a hand held up to his eye and imitating depressing the camera’s trigger. Prompto jumped up, nodding, and stumbled a little in his excitement to circle to the front of the dais.

“I don’t think I’d mentioned; Prompto is a photographer. I’ll have him send me the photographs later. Prompto, can you direct?”

“You got it!” Prompto had his camera in hand, and as the room returned to muddled conversation and jaunty jazz tunes, he adjusted the settings and checked the viewfinder. “Okay, Ignis, angle yourself behind Noct about thirty degrees, standing slightly offset. Noct, face me at a very slight angle so I can _ just _ catch your profile, and please tilt your hand up to catch the light on the stone and for a clearer view of the ring—” Somewhere behind Ignis, Gladio choked on the wine he was drinking as Prompto swiftly fired off confident direction— “Okay, Igs, turn the left foot out to adjust the angle of your chest, and then together, count to three and hold it!”

As Noctis said ‘three,’ Prompto took the snap, then stepped back and almost mechanically reoriented himself to take several slightly adjusted angles. Ignis could hear Gladio hissing his name, as Prompto put his camera down. 

“Hey, Noct, mind if I take a few shots of just you wearing the ring?” 

Ignis stepped back and away as Prompto told Noctis how exactly to look like he was straightening his jacket while distinctly showing off the face of the ring. 

Gladio of course, leaned across the table and hooked Ignis by the tails of his tux. “I thought you were exaggerating about the photography thing!” Ignis shot Gladio a glare, but Gladio shook his head. “We’re talking about this.”

Before Ignis could retort, Regis had circled the table to join the photographs. Prompto was fast on the trigger as Regis playfully ruffled Noctis’ hair and wrapped him in an affectionate hug, and Ignis couldn’t imagine just how many shots he’d have to go through to find the best ones. However, he just looked excited about it as he flicked through a few shots. “I’ve definitely got some great stuff here! I’ll see if I can get a few of these edited in the next week, but I’ll turn over all the raws on a flash drive as soon as I can get it loaded.”

“How very sporting of you.” Regis stepped forward and shook his hand. “I can’t wait to see them. However, I believe you’re here as a guest, and your beau’s arm is getting cold.” He winked, and Prompto squeaked and whipped around to Ignis.

“I got a little carried away, sorry!” He quickly looped his arm around Ignis’. “Thank you for letting me take pictures.”

“Not at all; you’ll be doing us a favor.” Ignis wound Prompto in towards his chest, then walked him back towards the dais. The band was playing something a little more spirited, and a few couples had moved towards the dance floor. Ignis noticed Noct winding his way through the partygoers towards the band, likely to request music by some abhorrent metal band. Ignis ignored him in favor of studying Prompto's wistful face. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Are you kidding?” Prompto unlinked himself from Ignis’ arm to look up into his eyes. “This is great! I've been to a few parties like this, but I didn't have anyone to talk to, and nobody really even looked at me. I like your friends, Iggy. And—” Prompto's breath hitched. “I…”

There was an audible 'pop’ from the speakers, as the song the band had been playing ended, and then, Noctis’ voice was heard: “Hey. I asked the guys to do one for me.” Ignis sought Noctis in the room, and saw him standing in front of the band, holding the microphone, pigeontoed but making himself speak: “This one's for the lovebirds, so, uh, get cuddly.” He put on a sheepish grin, then turned his gaze right to Ignis.

“Cheeky devil!” Ignis gasped when he realized what Noctis had pulled. Prompto, however, went wide-eyed. 

“Oh, that's what he meant! He said he was gonna do you a small solid 'right now.’ He says he still owes you a big one later, still, but…” Prompto took Ignis’ hand, then swooped around and grabbed the other. “Dance with me?”

Ignis came up short for words, but his body naturally followed Prompto to the dance floor like a moth drawn to a flame. Prompto was an inferno, his very own sun; chasing him was natural.

Ignis knew the song from the first few strums of the guitar, though he barely heard over the rush of his pulse in his ear as Prompto adjusted his hands, one on Ignis’ shoulder and the other clasped in his hand. Their bodies were so close, and Prompto's hands were so warm. Ignis had never been tactile, but Prompto's touch was so tender and tentative, Ignis couldn't bear the thought of rejecting it. Prompto led, easing Ignis into an easy box step and swaying them side to side. They made slow little circles, in time with the rhythm as Ignis’ heart spiraled away, soaring as Prompto seemed to turn closer and closer to him. Ignis closed his eyes for a moment, as if he might open them and instead find he'd been dreaming and if he was, then he'd rather live in reality than pretend he could be this content. And yet, when he opened them, Prompto was there, gazing at him, rapt with adoration and holding him tight.

_ “Ah,” _ the singer crooned against the slow hum of the guitar, _ “Now I don't hardly know her…” _

“Iggy,” Prompto whispered, his gaze alit with tiny stars and impudently imploring, “Are you having fun too?”

“I am,” Ignis answered without hesitation. “I've never enjoyed one of these events more.”

“That's good.” Prompto came cheek to cheek with Ignis, then rested his head on his shoulder. “I’m so glad…”

_ “But I think I could love her…” _

Ignis found his grip on Prompto was just a little tighter, as Prompto added, “I really wanted you to be happy tonight, and you've looked so happy, but I had to be sure. Just… you're a different person when you're happy. Or maybe just a better version of the same you. I like it. I like you.” Prompto was quiet, head to Ignis’ breast as the music swelled into a cacophonous, melodic wall of song, and Prompto stepped back and gave Ignis a twirl. Ignis’ head and heart spun as his body naturally followed Prompto's lead, and he felt for a precious moment like he was flying. 

Then, he was swaying in Prompto's arms again, dancing to his pace and swallowed by his presence, a pebble orbiting the sun. Prompto's eyes, luminous blue, were littered with stars reflecting in them from all the twinkling lights, constellations to match his freckles. His smile was crooked but deeply sincere, his face shining even in the moody lighting. Ignis lost the rest of the room, everything around him, in Prompto. He wanted to be lost in Prompto, forget everything they each were outside of this moment, and simply be this.

He claimed Prompto's hand for a kiss, then dipped him low in his arms. Prompto's eyes widened, but he held onto Ignis, his touch soft, his whole form pliant, like he would melt into Ignis’ embrace if he could. Ignis, drawn in again, bent and kissed him on the mouth, and Prompto leaned into it, kissing him back.

For an eternity, and for what could never be long enough, they were lost in the kiss, the tangle of clumsy teeth and tongue, warmth and affection, and a sense deeper than Ignis had thought possible of himself that he was truly lost.

_ Stars, I'm in love with this boy._

_ _

Ignis didn't know how long he had been kissing Prompto when they came up for air, only that he was hot from the effort and that Prompto was blushing too, crimson even in the dark. Ignis was aware of every eye in the room, everyone's gazes trained on him, but he only cared about Prompto.

“Tell me,” he said, dropping Prompto's hand to straighten his lapel, then to run his palm up his jaw. “Would you care to stay a bit longer? Or would you perhaps like to go home for a nightcap?”

Prompto jerkily nodded, unable to tear his gaze away from Ignis’ face. “No more party. Just you, Iggy.”

Ignis took his hand again and fled for the door, unmindful of any other living soul but the one who owned his heart. He stopped only for a moment by Regis as they passed:

“Congratulate Noctis for me again, but I'm afraid I must be off.” 

Regis, regal as ever, only shot Ignis a knowing look and a sly smile. “I appreciate everything you've done tonight. Have a pleasant evening.” 

Ignis bowed his head, then escorted Prompto to the door. His eager babbling had gone silent, swallowed by the grin of a cat about to get the cream, but Ignis could faintly feel him shaking, like a firework ready to soar skyward. Ignis couldn't hail the valet to take Prompto home fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist #6 - "Crimson and Clover," Tommy James & The Shondells  
_Ah, when she comes walking over_  
_Now I've been waitin' to show her_  
_Crimson and clover over and over_


	7. Us, Undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis and Prompto cross the line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here there be smut. Be forewarned, this chapter is NSFW.

**7\. Us, Undone **

Ignis was a rock steady driver, but he certainly didn't feel like it as he drove down the city streets for home as fast as the stoplights would allow. Prompto was quivering, beaming with excitement, and Ignis relished knowing he'd been the one to thrill him so. 

Thank the heavens for private elevators. The moment the door closed, Prompto was turning into Ignis’ chest, a hand pressed to his breast, over his heart, his other arm looped around Ignis’ back. Kissing Prompto again came as naturally as breathing, and Ignis slung an arm around his waist and let Prompto consume him in kisses, let his tongue lap at the roof of his mouth and let him taste his teeth. His fingers trembled on Ignis’ chest, his breath stuttering, and then he grasped Ignis’ shirt and pulled him somehow closer. Ignis didn't feel the elevator ride, lost in the way Prompto tasted. Then, the elevator door opened and Ignis guided Prompto back towards the penthouse door. 

“Prompto,” he breathed, as Prompto tried to hold his lapels, jaw slack and pupils dilated like black holes in his night-sky eyes. Ignis fished urgently for his house key as Prompto tried to pull him in again, and jammed it into the door before Prompto could latch on. “Prompto,” he tried to insist as he opened the door and ushered him in. “You’re a delight, love, but please, you must know: I’m not making you do this.”

“Yeah, okay.” Prompto picked up kissing him, his lips wet and soft trailing down his cheek to his neck as Prompto used his hold on Ignis to ease his jacket off of his shoulders. He dropped it over the armchair as Ignis stepped backwards into his living room, with Prompto chasing him every step of the way. Every little kiss or nip sent stars through Ignis’ vision, but he had to make sure Prompto understood:

“Truly, I’m most grateful for your company!” Ignis kept talking as Prompto’s teeth shivered against his clavicle, then kissed down his chest as he unbuttoned his shirt. “But love, you don’t need to be intimate with me if you don’t think you'll enjoy it, if it’s not something you want. I won’t force myself on you.”

“Mm.” Prompto traced his fingers down Ignis’ bared chest to the button of his slacks, popping it open with a gentle, practiced flick and fastening his warm, wet mouth around Ignis’ neck again. Ignis felt a shiver run all the way down his spine when he realized Prompto had him halfway naked without even realizing it, and any words of protest he still had were smothered against his roaring need. “Yeah,” Prompto whispered against his throat. “I want you. I like you, y’know.” He surged up and kissed Ignis on the mouth again, pushing his chest to Ignis’, and Ignis moaned back into the kiss and slid his arms around his waist. 

“May I have you in bed, darling?”

“Fuck, yeah.” Prompto released Ignis from his hold, picking up Ignis’ discarded jacket, and sauntering past him, making sure to sway his hips as if Ignis had forgotten how pert his backside was, but Ignis caught him by the collar.

“This way.”

Ignis kept his bedroom immaculate and inviting for himself, but opening the doors to his personal sanctum, the soft lavender walls, his silver duvet cover and silky, fresh sheets in royal purple, illuminated by the white light from the moon shining in through the balcony doors, felt as intimate as anything else. Prompto took a slow look around as Ignis folded back the quilt, smiling with approval, his motions loose and natural as he sauntered in. Ignis adjusted himself in his sagging trousers as Prompto came close again, taking the reprieve to catch his breath and search his memory: when was the last he'd had someone in his bed, in here with him? He couldn't recall, but now he wanted nobody else. Prompto made to shuck his jacket, then stopped short. He emptied his pockets and set his camera and wallet on Ignis’ dresser, then opened his wallet and took out a folded ream of condoms. “Always be prepared, right?” He winked and tore two off, then eased his arms out of his jacket. Ignis took his jacket and set it aside.

“May I undress you?” He had never so fervently wanted to unwrap someone like a present, and he let his fingers linger at the top button of his collar. Prompto chuckled and kissed the back of his hand.

“I'm not used to being _ asked _ so nicely. Yeah, babe, help a guy out, won'cha?” He pulled the buttons of his vest loose one by one as Ignis fumbled the top button for a moment, then managed to get him loose. He let his fingertips drag down Prompto's sternum, the cleft of his firm pectorals and the cut of his abs, before peeling the cotton back and baring beautiful, smooth skin. Ignis could faintly feel little ridges, like old scars, as he ran his thumbs and fingers down Prompto's waist to his hips, and Prompto flushed pink.

“Um, sorry, I- um, you don't mind, right?” He actually looked a little bashful, fidgeting with the tails of his shirt as he slid it down his arms.

“What is there to mind? You're lovely.” Ignis admired him, from his navel, down his pale belly marked with muscle tone and faded scars, to his nose, flecked with those charming freckles and flushed blazing pink. “I'd like to see more of you.”

Prompto's breath hitched, and he nodded sharply. He popped the button of his slacks, and Ignis helped slide them down the ridged planes of his thighs, corded with lean runner's muscle and satin smooth. Prompto wore fitted boxer briefs printed with amber leopard spots, and Ignis could trace the outline of his restrained erection through them. He traced it too, first with his fingers, then he dropped to his knees with abandon and mouthed at it. 

“Oh— shit.” Prompto bit his lip and adjusted himself, knuckles dusting Ignis’ chin, then cupped his jaw. “How do you want me?”

“Actions speak louder, darling.” Ignis eased Prompto out of his briefs, letting his cock swing free, then opened his mouth to let it rest on his tongue.

“God, Igs.” Prompto inhaled, and Ignis glanced up to see Prompto watching him, pupils blacking out his irises, and he tousled Ignis’ hair. “That is so hot you can't imagine, I mean, nobody's ever—”

_ Nobody else, _ Ignis thought, whiting out the rest of Prompto's eager encouragement. _ And how many others have there been?_

“Please don't stop.” Prompto ran his fingertips up Ignis’ jaw and carded them into his hair. Ignis felt them shaking.

Ignis didn't hesitate to swallow him down at that, and Prompto actually cried out as his knees buckled, and he fell backwards onto the bed. Ignis chased him down, pinning him there, and Prompto caught him around the neck and pulled him close. He curled his fingers against Ignis’ scalp, mussing his hair out of its style, and whispered adoration and appreciation. Ignis wanted Prompto to come undone.

He buried his nose in Prompto's navel and sucked hard at the base, then licked a long stripe up the base to the soft head, then tasted the slit. His skin was sweet, and the perfect fit for Ignis’ mouth. The bitter salt of his precum made Ignis’ mouth water, and he repaid Prompto for it with a long, wet suck, and let the head touch the back of his tongue. Prompto hummed eagerly, thrusting a little. “Igs.” His voice was thick and husky. “I. Um. I’m supposed to put on a rubber if you wanna do that—”

Ignis let Prompto’s cock fall from his lips long enough to say, “Do you have any diseases?”

“I mean, I use protection with everyone and get tested monthly and my last test was cle-ah-ah-ah…” Prompto trailed off as Ignis swallowed him down again. He let him go just as quickly.

“Let me enjoy this a minute longer. I swear I’m clean too, and if you’re willing for more, I’ll wear a maid skirt for your pleasure if that’s what you wish of me.”

Prompto laughed, eyes crinkling up at the edges, and God, was he beautiful when he was laughing. It made Ignis want to make him laugh, want to see every smile of his from every angle, want to see that smile every single day. Ignis couldn’t resist a moment longer, and he sucked Prompto down again, turning his laugh into a delighted cry, and pressed the tip of his tongue down into the top of his sac. Prompto involuntarily thrust into his mouth, and Ignis sucked hard at the base in return. Prompto keened, fists tight in the sheet beneath him. “Iggy, please!”

That was quite enough of that. Ignis sucked Prompto’s dick hard as he released it from his mouth. “Would you like me to prepare you, or would you rather I undress while you prepare yourself?”

Prompto sat up, eyes wide. “Can I help you undress first? I wanna touch you all over.”

Ignis found that he suddenly wanted that, too. “If you please.” 

Prompto sat at the edge of the bed and unzipped Ignis’ fly, then slid his trousers down, revealing Ignis’ shirt, still clipped to his thighs with shirt stays and garters. Prompto exhaled sharply, and actually covered his mouth with a hand. “Oh, fuck, Igs, that is so hot.”

Ignis smiled and spread his hands down his thighs, framing the straps and the bulge of his erection in his briefs. “It’s for fashion’s sake, but quite frankly, I think it an attractive look too.” He slid his palms up to rest on his hips. “I believe you wanted to help me remove them?”

Prompto nodded hard, eager, and dutifully unclipped the shirt and slid it down Ignis’s shoulders, running his hands down Ignis’ back. Ignis could feel him tracing the muscle, almost massaging him all the way down to the hip bones before letting the silk fall away. Prompto hissed as his eyes raked over Ignis’ chest.

“Gosh,” he breathed. “You're gorgeous, Iggy.” He slid his thumbs up Ignis’ waist, pressing in at the dip of his hip bones, the contours of his muscles, the ridges of his ribs and the curve of his chest. Ignis let Prompto take him in, even as Prompto's fingers explored the edges of his nipples, only to inhale with surprise when Prompto leaned in and kissed over the nipple. His tongue laved over the tiny jut, before Prompto kissed his way up to Ignis’ throat, nibbling and sucking at his skin, then he kissed his way back down to Ignis’ hips, hands sliding down his waist, and he slid his boxers down as he reached them. Ignis’ dick, hot and painfully hard after being trapped so long, sprung free into the cool air and burned against Prompto's heated gaze as he kissed down the fine line of hair under Ignis’ navel. Having Prompto that close but not touching his needy dick made something boil over in Ignis.

“Would you like me to prepare you?”

“It doesn't take me much.” Prompto's fingers hooked around Ignis’ thigh, eyelashes batted down with bashful shame. “I— I wanna show you. Can I?”

Ignis inhaled, and he reached down and cupped Prompto's cheek, finding himself hesitating again. This boy, this beautiful boy, how many others had used him roughly with no care for anything more than their own enjoyment? What would he think of him after this? Should Ignis even want his body at all?

Ignis was startled from his introspection when Prompto turned his face and kissed his wrist. “Hey, Iggy?” He looked up again, big blue eyes shining. He batted his eyelashes a little, then put his hand over Ignis’. “It’s okay if you wanna take your time, but I’m…” Ignis’ heart ached as Prompto hesitated, as he squeezed his hand and fervently confessed, “I haven’t felt like this about anyone in forever, and I… I really wanna be with you!” 

Prompto sounded like an eager virgin. How could a sex worker suddenly be so bashful and shy? This wasn't just sex to Prompto, Ignis was sure. Ignis wanted to please him, and Prompto obviously, genuinely wished to return the favor. Ignis turned his hand into Prompto's and lifted it to kiss his knuckles, then up his arm to his chin, his cheek, his face. Prompto giggled as Ignis tugged him close. “Precious love, we can do whatever you like.” 

“Then, can I do this?” Prompto turned Ignis by his shoulder and pushed him gently to sit on the edge of the bed where he had been. Ignis let Prompto guide him, and admired Prompto's trim form as he straddled him. Prompto set something down next to Ignis—the sly dear had palmed a little bottle of lubricant and two condoms when he'd turned—then kissed Ignis on the mouth. “This okay?”

“Yes, yes.” Ignis felt a little breathless with Prompto's bare thighs so close, but Prompto eased back so Ignis could see him slipping a hand behind him, his first two fingers shiny and wet, and his eyelashes fluttered shut as he pushed them both up into himself. Ignis felt his thighs and chest tremble as Prompto leaned against them. He looped an arm around Prompto to help brace him. “Take your time, I want you to enjoy this.”

“Igs,” Prompto sobbed, and moaned as he twisted his wrist. “I will, I am, I really am. I don't want much, I just wanna feel you, all the way, every inch.”

Ignis groaned, his cock throbbing. He could still taste Prompto's precum in his mouth, and now he wanted to taste his tongue. “Kiss me?” Prompto didn't hesitate, diving in and claiming Ignis’ mouth. Ignis pressed his tongue into Prompto's and sucked on it, and Prompto moaned into the kiss. Ignis could feel his hand twisting and pumping into himself, until Prompto broke away.

“Want you, Igs.” He pulled his hand back. “Gonna go slow.” His slick fingers wrapped around Ignis’ dick for a slow drag, rolling a condom on with ease, and then pressed his rim to the sensitive head. Ignis gasped as he pushed the head in, and then, Prompto _ squeezed _ around him like a vise. He was so tight, almost unbearably so, but _ stars _ did Ignis love it. Prompto whined softly, then sank down against him in tiny little increments. He hugged Ignis around the neck and held tight as he lowered down, whispering nonsense, “feels so good, so good, oh, Iggy, so good for me,” until his butter-smooth thighs were against Ignis’ pelvis, and Ignis’ dick was fully seated in searing, tight heat. 

“Wait,” Ignis pleaded, sliding his hands to hold Prompto by the hips. “Please… just a moment… for me.”

Prompto hummed, then turned his head to kiss against Ignis’ neck. Ignis inhaled, exhaled, and relished the sensation of being thick and hot in Prompto's core, feeling like king of the world with Prompto against him. Prompto’s passage caressed him, holding him in, and Prompto kissed down Ignis’ neck a few times, before he put his lips against the shell of his ear. “I'm gonna move now.” He rutted once, his length dragging against the flat plane of Ignis’ belly. Ignis stifled a cry as Prompto slid him out, then easily took him back in. It came as easily as breathing to Prompto, but Ignis still felt his hole swallow him perfectly right back down to the root. 

That perfect sensation washed over him with every rock of Prompto's hips, driving Ignis’ lust like gasoline to an engine. This perfection was only topped by Prompto holding him tight and kissing his neck over and over. Ignis could feel teeth, little bites and nips, making the flame in him spark and roar.

“Fuck me,” Prompto was saying, but Ignis was rooted, captivated by Prompto. “Fuck me, fuck me— Oh, Iggy, you feel good, so good!” Ignis groaned and grasped at Prompto's hips. “Please, can I— Let me—!” Prompto thrust down into Ignis again, and Ignis wrapped a hand around his shaft. Prompto was rocket hot now, his shaft throbbing as he teetered on the verge, and a dozen flicks of the wrist had Prompto crying out and spilling his essence all over Ignis’ chest. His passage clenched around Ignis, Prompto ground down hard, and the pressure and heat drove Ignis over the edge. He thrust up as he came, and Prompto cried out his delight as the moment swallowed them.

They were lost there together for a long while. Prompto gradually slumped down, his head pillowed on Ignis’ breast, and Ignis wrapped his arms around Prompto’s waist and rubbed soothing little circles on his back. Ignis didn't want to move, nor dislodge Prompto even as his cock gradually started to soften in the condom. “Iggy?” Prompto spoke first, then carded his fingers into Ignis’ bangs. “Um, can we clean up some? We're gonna stick together, and like, I'd be super happy to be stuck with you, but…” Prompto trailed off, and Ignis found himself stifling a laugh, then a yawn.

“Of course, of course; come with me.” He lifted Prompto by the hips and helped him stand up from his position. “Let me show you the bathroom.”

Prompto swayed a little as Ignis walked him to his master bathroom, but he had the presence of mind to help Ignis peel off the condom and licked his softening prick clean. Ignis would have gotten hard again if he weren't so exhausted himself, but instead, he dampened a washcloth and wiped both of them off, their faces, backs, bellies, all over until Ignis was satisfied that they were both clean. Then, Ignis kissed him on the nose and took his hands. 

“If you didn't bring pajamas, love, I'll give you a set of mine.”

“I sleep…” Prompto yawned this time, and Ignis expected him to finish the sentence 'naked.’ Instead, Prompto shook off the yawn, his brow knitting up. “Home. Not supposed to…” He hung his head. “Stay…”

The curfew. Prompto had mentioned that on the first night, hadn't he? Ignis held his hands tight. He had to go back to where he was being _ housed _ (not his home, _ he didn't have one _ ), he couldn't stay with a _ client_, he had to be ready for other people to claim and use in the morning. He didn't get to curl up in a lover's arms and enjoy being open, lax, and content with the person he'd been with. Ignis hadn't brought anyone home to his bed in so long, and the thought of letting Prompto leave so soon felt like a black hole in his breast. 

Prompto was already walking away, dragging his fingers from Ignis’ hands, dragging his feet every step, but Ignis stepped forward and took hold of his arm. “Prompto, love, come to bed. Please.” Prompto stopped, not turning around, and Ignis swallowed hard around his pride. “Will one night away really be such a crime?”

Prompto turned right back around. No hesitation. “I just sleep in my underoos. Is that cool?”

“As cool as a penguin, love.” Ignis folded the sheets down, and Prompto yanked his briefs back on and flopped down onto the mattress with a mighty sigh. Ignis couldn't help but peek back a few times as he pulled on his sleep pants, hardly able to believe his good fortune.

He was lovely, charming, funny, endearing. Ignis loved the way he looked on his arm, at his dinner table, in his bed, everywhere Ignis could glimpse that smile. Prompto was his sunburst, his constellation, light, bright, and wonderful. Ignis wanted to keep that light in his life. 

He turned off the lamp lights and crawled into bed next to Prompto. Prompto, already drowsy on his pillow, snuggled up to Ignis’ chest. “Warm,” he whispered tenderly, and Ignis folded around him as if they never had to part.

Ignis had to keep him, somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist #7 - "Bring It On," Seal  
_Give me something for the dream that I am in_  
_You know I love the way you save me_


	8. Who Will Buy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after their first time making love brings both Prompto and Ignis contemplation. For Ignis, it brings consideration of how to best keep Prompto. For Prompto, it brings consequences.

**8\. Who Will Buy?**

_ “Who will buy my sweet red roses, two blooms for a penny?” _

Ignis did not set music for his alarm clock. He would never rouse for gentle sounds and melody. In addition, he’d turned off his alarm the night before, having anticipated a late night. Ignis could already tell the morning was young, and yet, against all odds, he was awake.

_ “Who will buy this wonderful morning? Such a sky you never did see! Who will tie it up with a ribbon and put it in a box for me?” _

The music wasn’t a recording. Ignis slowly sat up to find a shallow dent in the bed next to him, his bedroom flooded with bright dawn sunlight, and the doors to his balcony were left open. Prompto was standing against the balcony in his boxer briefs, camera in hand, pale skin and mussed hair illuminated pink and gold in the early morning light. He was snapping photos, and as Ignis had already noticed, he was singing to himself. He was no great talent, but he was earnest:

_ “There’s never been a day so sunny, it couldn’t happen twice! Where is the man with all the money? It’s cheap at half the price!” _

Ignis slid from his bed, relishing the faint ache in his arms and that heavy, sated feeling that came from a good night’s sleep, and from making love to someone. He sauntered his way around the bed, loathe to interrupt Prompto’s impromptu karaoke session:

_ “Who will buy this wonderful feeling? I’m so high I swear I could fly. Me, oh my, I don’t wanna lose it, so what am I to do to keep a sky so blue? There must be someone who will…” _

“_Oliver _, dear heart?” Ignis finally recognized the tune, but realized a moment too soon that he’d inadvertently spoken aloud. Prompto jumped, fumbled his camera for a second before grabbing it to his bare chest, and whipped around, eyes wide.

“Oh! Iggy! I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

Ignis chuckled and shook his head, then discreetly glanced to the clock. “I’m usually awake earlier than this. I generally go cycling in the recreation center on the fifth floor for an hour before breakfast. I admit, I had hoped to sleep in a tad longer, but this was a pleasant way to wake.” He stepped out onto the balcony with Prompto, the tiles cool in the morning air, and wrapped an arm around his back. Prompto melted into his hug, humming contentedly. “Did you sleep well?”

“Your bed is the nicest place,” Prompto murmured into his bare shoulder. “I didn’t wanna get out, but the sun woke me up, and then I saw out here—” Prompto turned from Ignis’ chest to motion to the cityscape, the shining buildings and roads spread out all around them all the way to the ports and distant sea— “I had to take a closer look, and, um, the singing—” Prompto’s face took heat against Ignis’ shoulder. Ignis chuckled.

“You’re not bad, you know.”

“Heh. Charmer.” Prompto grinned sheepishly, then shook his head. “I, um, love musicals? Like, especially movie musicals, since I couldn’t really go to the theatre to see ‘em live. But, like, all the Rodgers and Hammerstein movies, Disney movies, basically everything where people sing to move the plot along? Kind of my jam.”

Ignis remembered just how taken Prompto had been when they’d gone to the theatre together. “I see. And I suppose with a view like this, you were reminded of that song in particular.”

“A view like this, a morning like this. Yeah.” Prompto sighed contentedly. “I’ve never seen the city like this, from this high up. I’ve lived here for years, but I’ve always looked up at everything from the ground.” He turned, but leaned back into Ignis’ chest. “It’s so pretty. I wanted to remember this forever.”

Ignis hummed, his chest warmed from the inside out. Prompto’s eager smile was one thing, but this soft contentment was magical. “Would you like me to take a photograph of you?”

Prompto gazed up at him, wide-eyed. “Maybe… it can be of both of us? That way, we can both remember.”

Ignis’ heart clenched, and he shifted to stand against the railing. Prompto turned to put his back against Ignis’ chest, then turned to point his camera at the two of them. Ignis noticed his hand shifting to make minute adjustments of the camera’s angle as he looked down the lens, then nudged Ignis with his elbow. “Smile, Iggy.” 

Ignis thought of the simply plaintive joy in Prompto’s voice when he’d been taking photographs off of his balcony, and smiled.

The picture was impeccable, the angle spot on. Ignis’ chest warmed at the image of him and Prompto against the dawn. “Pretty great, right?” Prompto grinned as he turned the camera off. “I’m the master of the selfie! You want me to make you a print?” His expression quivered, then the corners of his mouth fell. “Though, uh, I guess you, uh, wouldn’t want to have a picture with… someone like me lying around, would you?”

Ignis frowned, his heart stirring like a storm cloud turned by a cold wind. What terrible things must have lurked in this poor boy’s heart. “I’d rather just have a photograph with you, Prompto. I assure you, there is nobody else quite like you. Please bring me a print, when you can.” He threaded his fingers through Prompto’s hair. “Would you care for some breakfast?”

Prompto smiled as Ignis played with his hair. “Yeah.” He sounded tight, uncomfortable, but Ignis realized his eyes were a little wet. Ignis smoothed his hair again, kissed his forehead, then led him back into his apartment by the hand.

Prompto didn’t deserve to feel guilty about being beside someone who genuinely cared for him, or to be cautious. Prompto didn’t deserve to have to return to a place where he was expected to go and sell himself to others, to give a shadow of what he’d shared with Ignis with men and women who didn’t give nearly as much regard for his well-being. Prompto shouldn’t have been driven to tears at a few kind words and a few polite gestures. Those should be commonplace. 

Prompto happily ate a slice of egg-in-the-basket toast and drank a cup of coffee with cream, as Ignis briefly reviewed the newspaper headlines for the story about Noctis being named successor, and discreetly typed a message to Noctis and Gladio behind the broadsheet:

_ “I would like to meet with the two of you today, preferably at the same time, to discuss a topic of some personal import. Please let me know when you will be available.” _

“I’m afraid I’ll have to take you home after breakfast.” Ignis sighed as he folded the paper over. “I should have asked you to bring a change of clothes, and I shan’t force you to wear the same things over and over. In addition, I’ve a bit of business to take care of.”

“No problem! Oh— Are you giving me a ride?” Prompto went wide-eyed. “I don’t wanna put you out, I can walk, or catch a bus—”

“Would it be a problem if I were to take you back to where you’re living?” Ignis tried not to betray anything. Prompto thought for a moment, then shook his head.

“We do sometimes have clients come in; it’s a love hotel in the front, and all. I just usually don’t have clients on the love hotel end, so I don’t tell anyone where I’m living.” 

“I won’t exploit or visit without permission, certainly.” Ignis extended his arm, palm flat, over the table. “But I’d be happy to pick you up and save you the trouble sometimes. All you’d have to do is ask.”

Prompto put his hand over Ignis’ and grinned. “I dunno, I’d hate the other girls to see you and your fancy car and get all jelly!”

“Just call me peanut butter, love.” Ignis’ eyes crinkled, and Prompto laughed until he got a little teary.

Ignis hoped he was only tearful with joy.

Prompto redressed in his street clothes from the day before for the ride home, and gave Ignis the address. Ignis wrote it down before putting it into the GPS, and the ride over was mostly quiet but for a little bit of casual conversation. Ignis still delighted in every moment with him, every sweet little thing he said. When they reached a nondescript hotel near the edge of the business district called “Ardent Suites,” Ignis got out to help Prompto out onto the sidewalk with a hand up. “I’ll want to see you again soon.”

“Yeah.” Prompto stood next to him, then got on his toes to touch his nose to Ignis’, and Ignis kissed him chastely on the upper lip in kind. “You, um, have my number.”

“I’ll be calling it soon. Be well.” Ignis had to let go of Prompto’s hand. Prompto hesitated to back away, then turned for the door. Ignis watched him until he entered the front door, then got back into his car and turned his GPS to the Lucid HQ address.

Noctis had texted him back saying he’d just woken and could meet Ignis in an hour. Gladio had already offered to bring coffee and snacks. Satisfactory. Ignis drove off, already writing a script in his mind and forming a strategy.

There would come a day that Prompto would never have to enter that place again, but Ignis had found that he couldn’t make that happen on his own. It was high time he tried a new approach.

* * *

Ignis was researching the property information for Ardent Suites when there was a knock on his office door. “Gladio.” He didn’t look up, but he heard Gladio grumble and put down a dispenser box of coffee and a box of pastries. 

“This better be good. I’m hungover and I’m gonna cut it close if I’m gonna pick Iris up from dance on time.” 

“I promise not to take up all of your afternoon.” Ignis turned to see Gladio, looking drowsy and grouchy, rubbing his eyes as he dispensed some coffee into a mug. “I suppose I missed the best of the party.”

“Cor challenged me to do whiskey shots after you left.” Gladio pounded down his coffee, black, as if it weren’t steaming. “See, if you’d hung around, you would’a talked me out of it.” Then, he turned a vicious grin to Ignis. “But you had to actually put the kid to good use, huh?”

Ignis promptly whipped back around to his computer. “You will not speculate about my sex life or speak about Prompto as if he were an object. You know better now.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Gladio groaned, then paused. “Wait, is this about Prompto?”

“What about Prompto?” Noctis strolled in as if he’d been there all along. He was dressed in pajama pants, but Ignis noticed him wearing his ring with a flash of pride. Gladio eyed Noctis.

“Oh, don’t you know?”

“Let me tell him. Kindly close the door.” Ignis turned in his spinning chair and filled a mug with coffee as Noctis, shrugging, pulled the door shut behind him.

“So, uh, is this like a secret? A surprise? Oh, are you gonna propose?” Noctis frowned, cocking his head. “You haven’t been seeing him that long, have you?”

Ignis inhaled, then exhaled slowly. “Noctis, you… enjoyed Prompto’s company last night, did you not?”

“Yeah, he’s cool.” Noctis cracked a smile as he poured himself a mug of coffee and grabbed a croissant from the box. “He gave me his netcode, I was gonna text him later to party up on King’s Knight.”

“King’s Knight?”

Gladio snickered. “That game he plays on his cell phone instead of reading the quarterly reports.”

“Shut up, Gladio, I get my work done.” Noct shrugged as he hopped onto Ignis’ drawing stool. “Yeah, I told him about it, he said it sounded cool and he wanted to try. He said he used to love gaming in high school. Actually, he reminds me of a guy from my school.” Noctis took a bite of his croissant, as Ignis nodded.

“I’m glad. Noctis, you need to be aware: I met Prompto through an escort service.”

Noctis spit coffee and croissant onto Ignis’ drafting table. “You hired him?!”

“Several weeks ago, to be quite frank.” Ignis returned his focus to his computer screen, scowling at the search results before starting again. “I’ve called him several times for companionship and company. Oddly enough, he has only requested payment for one of these encounters.”

“What the f— Igs.” Noctis jumped off the stool and set his coffee down on the desk, much rougher than he meant to, and seized Ignis’ arm. “What the hell? Why would you _ hire _ someone to be your friend?!”

“I didn’t know how else to find an open ear.” Ignis looked down, knowing he couldn't let Noctis see the shame in his eyes. “I needed… someone. Someone to talk to, among other things.”

“You could have talked to me.” Noctis’ face was burning, but Gladio clicked his tongue.

“Noct, you’re like half of his problems!”

Noctis whipped around on Gladio. “You’re the one who threw that card at him!”

“I told him to see a therapist! I was joking about the hooker thing!” Ignis winced as Gladio turned back to him, swinging a big arm like he was lowering an axe. “But no, he called, and he met Prompto, and it turns out they’re a goddamn love match.”

Noctis faltered at that. “Wait, so you’re actually—” Then, he slouched, crestfallen. “I guess...”

“Noct.” Ignis twisted in his chair to face him. “Noctis, it’s nothing to do with not caring for you. I merely didn’t wish to burden you with my problems whilst you are struggling with your own. I do care for you, and consider you a friend and peer. However, I care for Prompto too, and deeper than I ever imagined I could.” Noct was still sulking, but he nodded with understanding, and Ignis sat back, slouching in his chair. “The problem is that he is an escort, and I don’t believe he wants to be.”

“Well, no shit.” Gladio crossed his arms and propped his shoulders on the door. “Nobody wants that kind of life.” Ignis shook his head.

“But he feels he has no choice. He’s effectively an indentured servant of the sex work variety.”

Ignis explained the circumstances of Prompto’s contract, from Prompto being disowned by his family to the repeated “temp job” rejections, to the contract requiring him to pay his debts and the “last resort” of prostitution. “He’s housed under their roof and fed, and it appears he’s given a small stipend of personal spending money, but they seem to own him otherwise. He has rules to follow, he’s certainly not allowed to keep all of the money he makes, he’s at the beck and call of strangers, and I suspect they’d use less than legal means to pursue any debt they state he owes them.” Noctis was chewing the inside of his mouth, and Gladio had put his coffee mug down so he wouldn’t crush it.

“He sold himself off because he thought he had no choice and had no idea what he was getting into, and some people are really good at taking advantage of that.” Gladio scoffed. “Some people are fucking disgusting.”

“I can’t leave him in that situation.” Ignis hung his head low. “My feelings aside, I can’t in good conscience let him go on under the thumb of pimps and traffickers.” Then, he peered up, daring to look between Gladio and Noctis. “I recognize the reality that because of his position in the world, you may have some preconceived judgment of his moral character and believe it possible that I am being deceived, but you’ve both met him now. You’ve seen him. I don’t consider myself a poor judge of character, and I don’t believe Prompto has lied to me.”

“Prompto’s a good guy. He’s legit.” Noctis crossed his arms. “The way the two of you look at each other can’t be faked.”

Gladio jerked his head in a nod. “Yeah, no lie, I had my doubts, but the kid’s genuine. Plus, the fact that he went and hung out with Noct? You didn’t tell him to do that, did ya?”

“No, certainly not.”

“Yeah, if he was just in it for the money, he woulda hung on ya lookin’ bored until you went to take him home.” Gladio shrugged. “I’ve seen guys bring pros to events before. He didn’t act like he was just there waiting for you to use him.”

“Jaded, I suppose.” Ignis pinched his brow. “Prompto’s so bright, I don’t want him to ever sink that low.”

“What’s more, didn’t you say there was a whole hotel of people stuck like that?” Noctis motioned indicatively.

“Yes. I got the address from Prompto today, and I’ve been investigating the owner of the property.” Ignis gestured to his computer screen.

“Oh?” Gladio buckled off the wall and sauntered over to look over his shoulder. Ignis sighed.

“I’ve discovered the same thing I discovered when I attempted to investigate the business through which I came into contact with Prompto. The property is owned by a registered corporation, but that registered corporation is owned by _ another _ registered corporation.” Ignis clicked through a few pages of registration documents as he spoke: “I did dig back through approximately six layers of companies owned by other shell companies and was able to link the company that owns the hotel property to one of the companies that owns the corporation to which Prompto apparently signed himself away. However, I have made no progress on directly linking these businesses to a _ person _. I suspect that information may never reach the light.” 

Gladio whistled. “So it’s a matryoshka of shell companies? That just screams ‘shady shit.’”

“Yeah,” Noctis agreed. “But all I’m hearing is that Prompto’s not the only one these people have trapped.”

“It’s a trafficking operation, certainly. I’d prefer to find enough evidence between Prompto’s testimony and other records to turn over to the police, but I’m a jewelry designer, not a detective.” Ignis chewed his bottom lip. “I’d like to dismantle the system in which Prompto is entrapped, but if I can’t do that, I have to at least free him. He shouldn’t be forced to live like this.”

“Hell no.” Noctis crossed his arms. “We can try to work on breaking up the sex slave ring, but the bottom line is, we need to get Prompto out.”

“Think we can just pay off whatever he owes those bastards, get him out?” Gladio looked to Ignis, but Ignis furrowed his brow.

“I haven’t asked. I shall, but I also don’t want Prompto to think I’ve simply bought him. There is no price that could possibly match his worth.” Noctis grimaced, and Ignis sighed and continued, “I want to give Prompto a chance to get his own feet under him. That way—” Ignis’ throat caught as the thought processed, but he swallowed thickly and continued, “That way, if he decides to remain with me, it will be his choice.”

Gladio audibly swallowed, as Noctis bowed his head. “Specs,” Gladio muttered, then shook his head. “You’ve got it bad.”

“Yeah, but he deserves to _ have _it.” Noctis exhaled through his nose, then snapped his fingers. “I’ve got an idea for how to help Prompto.” Noctis put on a grin as he looked up again. “Igs, I’m with you.”

“Yeah.” Gladio nodded. “We either bust the traffickers, or we at least bust out the kid.”

“Thank you both.” Ignis turned and stood, the light from his office window bright against his glasses, his friends’ faces serious, but bright with determination. “Gentlemen, where do we begin?”

* * *

Prompto had known that breaking curfew would be a bad idea. He knew, but he’d let it happen. 

How could he not? Ignis was so _ good_. Ignis had taken him out and let him have fun like he was a real date, instead of plastering him to his side like a woman carrying a fancy purse. Ignis took him home and asked for his consent like six times and then made sure he got as good as he gave. Prompto had wanted to cuddle Ignis to sleep and wake up with him like he belonged there. He knew there’d be consequences, but he was fine disregarding them.

He’d known what would happen when he got in. He’d known Loqi would be waiting for him. He’d known Loqi would jump up, shrieking: “And just where the hell have you been?!”

He’d known Loqi and Caligo Ulldor would lock him up in the office as Ulldor slouched at the computer and reviewed his file and his cell phone’s GPS logs. Loqi was calling someone or other, complaining about ‘all the trouble we went to and he just turns up!’ Prompto just ducked down in the wooden chair Loqi had shoved him into and tried to ignore Ulldor’s grousing. 

“In the CBD the whole night, were you? Off _ clubbing, _ I suppose? Freelance hooking?” Ulldor sneered at him, his hooked nose wrinkling as he glared at Prompto over his shoulder. Prompto sighed.

“I told you. My client hired me to accompany him to an event. He needed arm candy. After that, he took me home, did what clients do, and then it was super late. I felt unsafe walking home or taking a taxi alone. I would’ve texted Miss Aranea, but I got self-conscious about waking her up.” Prompto kicked his feet a little, and Loqi smacked him on the back of the head.

“Stop squirming!”

“Tummelt.” Ulldor’s voice was a staccato that hit like a bullet. “Don’t. Damage. The merchandise.” He turned around and faced Prompto, lounging back in the computer chair. “While your GPS suggests you’re being truthful about your location, this is not the first evidence of misbehavior out of you for the past month.” Prompto strained to keep a straight face, as Ulldor leaned forward and stared down his nose at Prompto. “I still see no evidence that you’ve been charging this mysterious client you’ve been seeing.”

“Must’ve slipped my mind again.” Prompto bit his lip. Ulldor scoffed, gripping the arms of the chair and lounging in it like a usurper on a throne.

“The only thing worse than a whore is a stupid whore.” 

“Or a fat whore!” Loqi pitched in, and poked Prompto’s midsection from behind. Prompto yelped, only to see Loqi scoffing in disgust. “I mean, come on. Nobody likes anorexic hookers, but fat ones? You think anyone’s gonna pay to look at your stretch marks and flab? Or what, does your new favorite like your ass so much you thought you’d give him more to slap?”

Prompto suddenly regretted eating anything. Ever.

“Hmph. Is that what it is?” Ulldor cocked his head. “It’s the same man over and over you’re not charging— Oh, you like him?” To Prompto’s surprise, Ulldor laughed. “He likes him. Imagine that.” Ulldor kept laughing, and Prompto’s confusion dissolved into shame when Loqi joined in. He wished he could sink down through the floor, only to be jerked out of his sulk when Ulldor snapped forward and seized him by the front of his shirt. “You can’t be serious! I don’t know what’s more pathetic! Thinking a client could possibly give a damn about a whore like you after knowing what you do, how many others have used you—”

“Or liking a guy so pathetic he can’t get sex without buying it.” Loqi said it into Prompto’s ear, and Prompto jerked out of Ulldor’s hold and snapped his neck around to bare his teeth at Loqi.

“Don’t talk about him like that! He’s not pathetic!”

“Yes, but you are!” Ulldor snatched Prompto by the front of his shirt, knuckles digging into his sternum, and hauled him out of the chair. “You’re on thin ice! If you abuse the freedoms we give you, we’ll have to take them away!” Prompto’s heart jumped into his throat when Ulldor shook him. “You can’t simply whore yourself around and bring in no money.” He dropped Prompto back to the chair. “This client? He kept you overnight, and you charge by the hour. Charge him for every hour.”

“Do it!” Loqi punched Prompto hard in the shoulder, then yanked Prompto’s phone from his pocket and shoved it into his hand. Loqi and Caligo each leaned over his shoulder as he pulled the app up, found Ignis’ account number, then, with trembling fingers, typed in the hours. He hesitated on the “submit” button, chewing his bottom lip.

He’d been hired. Ignis had called him. Ignis had even asked about being billed. And he’d done what someone like him was hired to do.

Ulldor was breathing in his ear. 

_ Stupid whore. _

Prompto submitted the charge and shoved his phone away. He hunched over again, and grimaced when he felt an ache in his breastbone where Ulldor had lifted him by his shirt. Loqi snickered a little. “Hey, Caligo, I think you’ve _ damaged the merchandise. _ He’s got a bruise.”

“Hmph. Perhaps we’ll charge his last client a repair fee, or discount his services.” Ulldor sneered and pulled up the records on his computer. “Nobody likes broken toys.”

“I dunno.” Loqi suddenly caught Prompto by the chin. “He did break the rules, didn’t he? Maybe we oughta make sure he’s not broken.” Prompto saw his hand going for his belt and held his breath—_ he wouldn’t _ _ — _but before Prompto could start to protest, there was a knock on the door. Loqi swore and whipped around to open it, only for Cindy to be standing there, arms crossed.

“Hey, um, Mr. Izunia says he's done in the studio for today.” Her gaze landed on Prompto, and if he were any less perceptive, he would have missed the flash of anger in her eyes. Instead, she stared at Loqi, expression flat but fierce. God, no wonder she was a model, her face was never anything but what she wanted it to be. “He wanted one of y'all to get his car while he packed up his camera.”

“Tummelt, go.” Ulldor waved him off. “I'd like to have a word with Mr. Izunia myself. Argentum, get out of my sight.” Ulldor stood and strode past Prompto without a second look. Loqi paused to sneer.

“Watch your ass, Fatty Freckles!” Loqi tromped off after Ulldor, and Cindy rushed in and grabbed Prompto by the hands.

“Did the sonofabitch touch you?”

Prompto bit his tongue, but nodded and pulled at his shirt. There was a bruise setting in. “He throttled me. Serves me right, huh?” Tears choked him up, but Cindy gave him a shake. 

“You tell Aranea. They'll never find the bodies.”

“It won't matter, Cin.” He shook his head. “There'd just be new enforcers and pimps. Someone still owns me.” He swallowed hard, trying to stave back tears, but Cindy groaned and shook her head. 

“Aw, sweetie— C'mon, let's just get you cleaned up. They're all talk anyway.” She picked him up and escorted him, strong where he couldn't be right now. Prompto kept his face down, not daring to look up, but he saw another shadow stop on the carpet at his feet.

“Why, Sydney, dear.” Prompto didn't know that voice, dark, low, classy, and condescending, but he knew Cindy's pseudonym. Prompto glanced up to find an older man, tall, thin, and spindly, with a defined jaw and hollow cheekbones, wearing a leather trench coat, a haute couture suit, and carrying a fancy camera bag and suitcase gathered in long fingers. His amber eyes glinted mischief and his smile was predatory and sharp as he set his gaze on Prompto. “Is this a friend of yours? He looks familiar.”

“Aww, Ardy, you'll make a gal jealous!” Cindy turned on the coquettish charm in an instant, giggling and flapping her hand, though her other hand was still tight on Prompto's elbow. Ulldor was standing at the man's side, glaring daggers at Prompto as Cindy shrugged and subtly put herself between Prompto and the two men. “This here's just my friend. I was gonna go paint his nails, he's got a hot date later! Y'all don't mind us now.” 

Cindy skirted past them in a move that felt aggressive to Prompto, but that looked airy and coy. He wished he had guts like that, God, Cindy was so perfect it hurt.

“Have I told you I love you lately?” He whispered as they got to the stairwell.

“Y'all just keep sayin’ it, sweetheart.” Cindy escorted him up the stairs. “Seems like we both need to hear it. Now come on, you, I'm gonna paint your nails and give you a facial and you're gonna feel so much better, you better believe.”

As Cindy took Prompto away to put him back together, Ardyn Izunia hummed and went for his camera in its bag and his cell phone. Ulldor frowned as Izunia went through the images in his camera and compared them to some images on his phone.

“I do apologize for the interruption, Mr. Izunia. It seems your favorite is trying to correct one of our wayward employees.”

“Goodness, now, don't you mind that!” Ardyn chuckled. “No, no; the young man did look familiar.” He stopped scrolling. “Yes, in this morning's special events report.” Ardyn smirked as he gazed on a set of photographs from the Lucid summer gala. He set his gaze on an image of the head jewelry designer dancing with a _ familiar _ young man. “Ah, yes. That's the one, would you look at that.” He grinned to himself as he set his eyes upon a new target. “Why, hello there, _ opening. _”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the beginning of the chapter, Prompto is singing "Who Will Buy," from Oliver.


	9. Snap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis has a plan to help Prompto, and change is coming in more ways than one.

**9\. Snap**

Prompto was picking at the scalloped potatoes. Ignis was concerned. Prompto had always happily devoured everything put in front of him. Ignis had hoped to have him for a dinner date, enjoy some pleasant conversation, give him some good news, and see where the night led if the mood was right. 

The mood was not right.

“Is something the matter with dinner?” Ignis set aside his fork, not wanting to eat if Prompto wasn't. Prompto jerked to attention, eyes wide, and shook his head hard, frantically. 

“No, it's really good!” He scooped up a forkful of potatoes, dripping with cream sauce, and moved them towards his mouth. He hesitated, mouth and jaw warring on whether or not to open, but he gave up and put the potatoes down. “Just, um, it's really... heavy? Yeah. And, um, it's summer, so…”

“Ah, of course. I should have kept seasonality in mind.” Ignis nodded as the pieces fell into place, and Prompto smiled with relief, brow still knit up.

“Yeah, exactly!" Prompto batted his eyelashes, though it seemed to take a concerted effort, and played the coquette: "Gotta watch my girlish figure for swimsuit season, and all!" His face fell again. "Even if it is kinda... winding down now...”

Ignis frowned, as that statement added a new piece to Prompto’s puzzling behavior. He'd seen Prompto in his underwear and less; Prompto's insecurity sounded like lunacy. “I think your figure is fine.”

“Yeah, but, um, I gain weight easily.” Prompto began to pick at the rest of the plate, avoiding the cream sauce and Ignis’ eyes completely. “It is good, though. It really is.” 

Ignis tried to take some comfort in Prompto approving of the dish even though he didn’t want to eat it, but his taut expression and reserved demeanor were entirely out of character. Ignis faintly recalled Prompto mentioning his curfew, but not what the penalty for it would have been.

Ignis no longer wanted to think about whatever anchor had been laid on Prompto’s spirit, only to lift it. 

“I’ve meant to ask,” Ignis broached the silence as he and Prompto washed the dishes, “Have you had a chance to edit the photographs from the other night?”

“Oh, no. Sorry!” Prompto forced a nervous smile. “I, um, was kind of busy.” He took a little fob from his pocket to show Ignis, then put it away to continue drying the plates. “I got them on a flash drive for ya, but the computer at home - um, I kind of don’t get to use it much?” He chattered a little faster as he dried the dishes, gaze flitting between the floor and the casserole dish in his hands. “It’s sort of communal. Plus, there’s no editing software on it, so I actually do my editing on the computers at the library.” 

“Ah, is that so?” Ignis furrowed his brow, but dried his hands on his apron and faced Prompto. “Perhaps I’ve a proposition for you. Won’t you come sit?”

Prompto’s face was all worked up with puzzlement as Ignis escorted him to his sitting area, brow knit, intermittently sucking his lower lip. Ignis sat him down and folded his hands on his knee, trying to look as neutral as he could. “You caught Noctis’ attention, you know.” He gave Prompto a peaceful look, studying him fondly. His heart ached to see the trepidation in his eyes chilling his body language, but he tried to convey warmth in every word, hoping it might help set Prompto at ease. “I told him about the photographs you showed me, and he asked me why you hadn’t applied for the Lucid Photographer’s Internship. Did you apply for photography jobs when you were looking for work?”

“Mm, yeah.” Prompto bit his lip. “But, uh, most everyone either wanted someone with trade experience, or someone who’d done apprenticeship, or at least someone who was eighteen?” His voice lifted a little, his throat tight, and Ignis felt a pang in his chest at the reminder of Prompto’s misfortune. How _ young _ he’d been. “I, um, did see the Lucid internship, but it’s, y'know, a non-paying internship.”

“Ah.” 

“Yeah.” Prompto bit his lip, then lifted his hands in a shrug and the corners of his mouth in a meaningless smile. “I, uh, kinda needed somewhere to live, y’know? And most places charge rent, and all...”

“Yes, of course. I, er, shall have to ask Regis to reconsider that particular caveat. I hate to think of all the fine, untapped talent we’ve missed because they couldn’t afford to work for no pay.” Ignis smoothed his hair back, starkly uncomfortable at the notion. “Either way, Noct would like for you to come to the Lucid offices tomorrow and put together a portfolio to submit. Just a few pictures!” Ignis cut the protest off at the pass when Prompto’s mouth fell open. “I’ll happily provide studio space, and even loan you some of my personal collection pieces so you can demonstrate your skills. Noct will give you the requirements, and you can use photographs you took before if you can make them fit the bill. We’ll even give you access to the computers to edit your images, as desired. Do you think you can do it?”

Prompto hadn’t managed to shut his mouth since his jaw had fallen, but he wrenched it shut all at once. “For realsies? And you… you think I’ll get in? And maybe Mr. Caelum can pay me a little?”

“I’ll talk to him personally.” Ignis knew that even if Regis didn’t agree to it, he and Noctis would arrange to have checks appear with Prompto’s name on them one way or another. Ignis took Prompto’s hand. “I’ve seen your work, love, you’re tremendously talented. I think you’ll get in if you just try.” He smiled helplessly. “For _ realsies_.”

“Yeah?” That got a big, broad grin spreading across that darling face. “I’ll do it. I’ll do it, I will!” Prompto was bouncing in his seat, finally his exuberant, glowing self again, and Ignis wanted so dearly to embrace him. Fortunately, Prompto took the initiative to dive into Ignis’ chest and hug him tight, and a gleeful laugh bubbled out of Ignis as Prompto’s happiness, a delightful contagion, overtook him as well.

* * *

The next day, Ignis met Prompto early enough that he could make him buckwheat pancakes, then escorted him to the mostly empty Lucid building. Ignis knew a few people would be putting in overtime, but he only expected to meet three others. The first was Nyx, taking a weekend security shift, and he eyed Prompto up and down. “Oh, the famous boyfriend? You’ve been the talk around here.” Nyx chuckled, but Ignis knew he was memorizing him, just in case. “Just stick with him, Mr. Scientia. I’ll allow it, since he’s with you.”

“My thanks.” Ignis escorted Prompto past the security desk to the elevators, and took Prompto up to the studios on the 14th floor, where the other two were waiting.

Noct was propped against the hallway wall, playing some game on his phone, as Gladio sat in a rolling chair he'd pulled around with a black box under one arm and a book in hand. They both turned when the elevator opened, and Ignis led Prompto towards them. “You remember Noct and Gladio, I’m certain.”

“Mhm.” Prompto nodded, shrinking just a little. “Nice to see ya.”

“Don’t duck down,” Gladio chuckled as he stood to his full height, deliberately sticking his chest out. “Aren’t you already short enough?” 

Prompto blushed red, grinning, as Noctis chuckled and shut his phone off.

“Hey! I’m glad you made it!” He approached Prompto, opening an arm, and clapped him on the back. “Iggy told you what’s up, right?”

“Yeah, he said you want me to apply for the internship!” Prompto held up his camera bag indicatively. “I brought my stuff! I even got the flash drive with the photos of your ring, and you with your Dad, and Iggy!”

“Awesome! Let me see!”

Gladio and Ignis traded amused and fond expressions as the two young men gawked over Prompto’s camera viewfinder, cheek to cheek, flipping through the images. Noctis looked pleased, grinning at every image. “You did really great, and this was just offhand!”

“Yeah, and usually I’m not so hot on portraits? But you and your dad photo really well, it was super natural.” Prompto’s gaze was pinpoint focused on the screen in a way it never was when he was talking about anything else. “Truth be told, we don’t need a lot of editing, just one or two flyaway hairs and an odd shadow here or there, but that won’t take me more than an hour, tops.”

“That's awesome.” Noctis was clearly satisfied, eyes gleaming. “You caught my good side in literally every shot.”

“Nah, the camera just loves you. Plus, I deleted the ones where you or your dad blinked.” Prompto beamed, then returned his attention to Ignis. “So, you said something about studio space? And stuff you wanted me to photograph?”

Gladio took this as his cue to tap the box. “Right here. Just like you asked, Iggy.” He opened the box to let Prompto see a selection of watches, diamond rings, and tennis bracelets. “You said these were prototypes?”

“Rejects, for some reason or other.” Ignis scoffed. “I liked them, myself. I'd thought to hold on to them, and perhaps redesign them. The metal is genuine, but the stones are zirconia. It’s essentially costume jewelry.” 

“Still company property. Your designs are proprietary.” Gladio shrugged, then closed the box and handed it off to Ignis. “S'why I'm here. Nothing valuable moves anywhere in the building without me or one of my guys carrying it.”

“Oh, I get it.” Prompto nodded, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Well, um, I'll touch it as little as possible. Do you have a studio I can use?”

“We have a room with some lights and backdrops we use for industry catalog-style shoots.” Noctis turned, motioning for Prompto to follow. “Gladio, Igs, you sticking with us?”

“You know it.” Gladio followed, and Ignis took up the rear.

“Can you think of anything you might need, Prompto?”

“Hmm.” Prompto was already adjusting his camera as they walked, taking the lens off. “A cleaning cloth for the jewelry. It's super important that they shine.”

Ignis admired that nod to detail. Prompto wouldn’t even _ need _ his help.

The studio space was a dark room containing a table with a black curtain around it, a few plexiglass platforms of different sizes, shapes, and heights, and white lights above. Prompto took it all in, took a breath, and got to work setting up his tripod, moving the plexiglass stands, and switching lenses on his camera a few times. He took test shots of the empty table, adjusting his settings or changing lenses between each one, and finally dusted the table down. Then, he selected a chunky bracelet, cleaned it, and arranged it on one of the rounded stands, tweaking the links of the chain until he was satisfied. Ignis could hear him quietly, eagerly chattering to himself the entire time, and stood stunned to see this side of Prompto in full force—the same energy and pep he had in conversation, the same devotion he offered Ignis, applied to creating his art. Noctis and Gladio watched, Noctis impressed, and Gladio in awe.

“Where'd you learn all the technical stuff?” Noctis motioned to the lights and camera, twirling a finger to indicate Prompto’s setup. Prompto shrugged without turning his attention from the watch he was polishing.

“Mostly from watching others? I took a few courses at a community college, when I had the funds. Top of my class! The teacher said I should'a joined the military, I'm a regular sharp shooter.” He winked at Noctis as Ignis smothered a chortle at the pun, then went right back to snapping, adjusting his angle or aperture, and taking the next shot. Snap, adjust, and snap again.

In only an hour, Prompto had taken photographs of all of the prototypes from multiple angles and Noctis leaned over his shoulder as he reviewed the raw photographs. Prompto squinted as he scrolled through. “How many did you want in my portfolio?”

“Just twenty, focusing on no more than six subjects. I'd include some scenery and portraits, too, if you have them, but—”

“I do!” Prompto grinned and scrolled to a different set of photographs, focused on a flurry of sparrows whirling around a statue. “Plenty. Okay, Iggy said you had a computer I could use?” He batted his eyelashes a little. “May I?”

Noctis and Ignis led Prompto to the computer lab door, but before they entered, Prompto looked to Ignis. “Is there a bathroom here?”

“Two doors down, on the right.” Ignis pointed to a sign, and Prompto took a small box out of his bag and bounded off.

“Gimme thirty seconds!”

The door shut, and Ignis turned his attention to Noctis. “I presume you examined the photographs?”

Noctis shook his head. “He's good, Specs. Like, he's got good subjects, and not even just your jewelry, but I looked at the other applicants’ submissions, and most of them don't come close in terms of working the light and getting the right angles.” 

“I don’t know much about photography,” Gladio added as he rejoined them, the locked box under his arm, “but I know what looks good, and the kid’s stuff looks good.”

“You still seem surprised.” 

“When someone is introduced to you as… someone who’s in his current profession, a guy tends to assume a bunch of dumb shit.” Gladio pinched his brow. “You kinda forget someone in that position is human when you try not to think about them.” Noctis huffed, shaking his head, and Gladio gave him a shove. “It’s true. When you’re just looking at a group, you forget they each have their own faces.”

Just then, Prompto returned, wearing a crooked old pair of thick, rimless glasses perched on his nose. They slid on his face a little, a tad too large, and made his eyes and the freckles under them look huge and the rest of him look a little small. Vulnerable. Adorable. He flashed a smile at Ignis, as Ignis' heart clenched. “Sorry about the dork look! My contacts are fine most of the time, but when I have to look really close at a computer, I give myself a migraine unless I use my glasses.”

“Of course, of course. Whatever works best for you.” Ignis hurriedly nodded, adjusting his own glasses up his nose with his hand and covering his cheeks. Prompto beamed, then scampered back into the computer room. Ignis cleared his throat, only to notice Gladio and Noctis each smirking at him. “Is something the matter?”

“Your ears are pink.” The smug satisfaction in Noctis’ grin was almost smothering. Ignis covered his ears and cleared his throat.

“It’s the heat.”

Gladio laughed so hard he had to hunch over as he ran out of air, and the heat spread further and hotter onto Ignis’ face. Noctis, too, was straining against another laugh, shaking his head. “Specs," Noctis said, grinning. "He’s good for you. Something about him brings out the best in you.” Gladio, choking, composed himself, but his eyes were warm.

“You’re happier than I’ve seen you in a long time.”

“I get it, though. He’s just… like that.” Noctis gestured to the door. “See, people like that have faces, they’re just people, and that guy makes Iggy here a different person.”

“I’m—” Ignis stammered a moment, then shook his head. “I, er, meant to ask. Did you inquire with your father regarding possibly making this a paid internship?”

“Not yet, he’s busy at a meeting with Ms. Yeagre at Amphibious, something about working out the details for a collab on summer swimwear next year.” Noctis sighed and ran his hand back through his hair. “But I will. Like, honestly, I get it. The internship virtually guarantees being hired on here, but it’s a year of not getting paid.”

“For younger people with no backup, it’s simply unfeasible.” Ignis shook his head. "Not all of us are as fortunate as we have been."

"Tell me about it." Noctis crossed his arms and adjusted his ring on his finger. "I'll talk to Dad when he's out, but no matter what he says, no matter what, Prompto's never going to sleep with someone for money once this comes through." 

Gladio pulled a face, grimacing. "We know anything about this place yet? Who owns it, runs it?"

"I dug as deeply as I could." Ignis sighed and rubbed his forehead. "It's precisely as I told you, bottom to top. The building I took him to, the businesses connected to him, even the entity that owns his phone number are all owned by shell companies within shell companies, and then those are all subsequently owned by cycle of shells that were resold to each other." 

"It's like three starving snakes eating each other's tails, all constricting Prompto in the middle." Gladio shook his head, shoulders slumping.

"Such is the tragic truth." Ignis shook his head. "The closest clue I uncovered is that his phone is, at the end of the chain, owned by Idle Capital Holdings, and that entity is old enough that ownership documentation isn't available on digitized public records. I submitted a request to view a hard copy, but I may not receive a response for several weeks."

"Shit." Noctis scowled. "That… actually reminds me of something Dad told me about his rival. Ardyn Izunia." He licked his lips as both Gladio and Ignis faced him.

"Noct," Ignis implored, but Noctis shook his head. 

"Dad said that Izunia uses tricks like that to cover his tracks when he's snatching up Lucid stock.”

"How can we prove that?" Gladio faced him, grounding his heels. "I don't know shit about Izunia, except he's persona non grata."

Noctis shrugged, though he kept his eyes low. "When we see he’s got ownership as a shareholder, we can track the sales to a certain extent, but by then, it’s too late. Dad wouldn't tell me more about why Izunia's not allowed to buy directly, except he works for Aldercapt, our biggest rival. That's why he even hides his public buys in shells." Noctis fiddled with his ring, twisting it up to the knuckle. "I asked him why Izunia's got a hate-on for us, but he said it was complicated, in the same voice he uses when I ask him about my mom."

Ignis furrowed his brow. "Is there any chance that it's the same old dog performing the same old tricks?" He glanced warily between the other two. “If Izunia's connected to a sex slave ring, it could be the end of him. The scandal might force him to sell his stocks to buy himself out of trouble. Noct, can you find me some paperwork from Izunia's bad faith stock purchases?”

Just then, Prompto poked his head out of the computer room door. "Hey, Noct? Iggy? Would you wanna take a look?"

Ignis and Noctis looked to one another, then followed Prompto back into the computer lab. Prompto had already created an album page featuring a watch, gleaming in three angles with an artistic close-up of the second hand and embossed numbers on the face, showing off the tiny stone set beside the 6. Ignis was reminded of luxury car advertisements. Noctis grinned. "That looks really good."

"Thanks! It just needed a little clean up, the lighting in your studio is great!" Prompto was beaming, hands set on his hips and chest out, clearly proud of his work. 

"No way; you're just good. I saw your unedited shots, dude." Noctis lightly hit his shoulder. "Just keep going. Unbiased? Just from looking at the raws? You're basically in the top ten."

Prompto's entire body shook with glee like he'd been switched on. "You got it, I'll do it! I'll make you proud!"

"You already have." Ignis rested his palms on Prompto's shoulders. "No one else can capture the light in those jewels quite the way you do.” He kissed the bridge of Prompto's nose, right across the freckles. "Show me your best."

Prompto nodded again, still smiling but sober and serious now: "I'm _ on it. _"

Ignis felt his phone chime as he got back into the hall, and saw Gladio already on a call, frowning. "Yeah, Dad—what? Yeah, he's here—what's going on?"

Ignis checked his phone, and saw that he'd received a news alert regarding "Lucid Designs" and saw a "breaking news" headline. He opened the story, and read the headline.

"What?!" Gladio yelled, whirling on his heel, eyes wide with fear and fury. "You wanna run that one by me again?!"

Ignis inhaled as he read the headline, then turned to Noctis, composing himself and schooling his features. "Noct, I need you to remain calm."

"No, fuck you!" Gladio smacked the wall as he shouted into his phone. "Tell me what happened to Regis!"

Noctis sucked in a breath, fire sparking in his eyes as he turned a glare on Ignis. "I'm as calm as I'm gonna get! What's going on?!"

"Your father has been involved in a car accident." Ignis scanned the headline again: _ Regis Caelum In Car Wreck in East Insomnia_. He cringed at the photograph of Regis' sleek black sedan, crumpled like a crushed soda can. "It's serious, Noct."

Gladio hung up and grabbed Noctis' arm. "We're going."

"You don't have to tell me twice!" Noctis nearly turned, but doubled back to Ignis again. "Stay with Prompto and take him home. And—" He stuttered, then quickly shook his head. "Don't tell him yet. Not until we know what's going on."

"I'll join you as soon as I'm able." Ignis nodded and rooted himself in place as they bolted for the elevators. Then, he returned his attention to the headlines as they generated in his alerts:

_ Lucid CEO Caelum in Critical Condition _

_ Regis Caelum Deceased? _

_ Nasty Crash Topples Lucid! _

To think the worst he'd had to worry about that morning was the chain around Prompto. Now, he felt a shadow cast over his entire world, and a noose closing around his own throat. His perceived security in his own place had snapped with a single flashbulb over a ruined automobile.


	10. Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis, Gladio, and Noctis face an uncertain future, and Prompto faces a new client.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for transactional non-explicit Prompto/Ardyn in this chapter. I tried to go skint on the details for Prompto's work, but be forewarned there is a sex scene between Ardyn and Prompto.

**10\. Disaster**

Noctis couldn’t look at his father, but at the same time, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. His body was prone in an ICU bed, both legs and his right arm in casts, staples in his chest covered in bandages, tubes and wires in his throat, his nose, _ everywhere. _ He didn’t look human. He didn’t look like his father. 

However, his father was in there, under there, and Noctis was staring at him from the other side of an observation window as nurses and techs adjusted the equipment around him. Clarus was planted in a plastic seat, head low, and Gladio stood beside him with his back to the wall, faintly trembling and, having taken only a split second glance, unable to force himself to turn again. Cor Leonis had come too, but he was pacing in the hallway, having a quiet phone conversation with someone (if he’d been told whom, Noctis hadn’t listened). Ignis hadn’t arrived yet. Noctis wasn’t sure he wanted him here yet, or possibly ever. Noctis didn’t want anyone to see his father like this. 

Regis had always been larger than life to him, and he knew Ignis looked up to him as well. He’d spent twenty-plus years now trying to impress him. Ignis had been much the same. Gladio just admired a man who seemed to effortlessly deal with all the strains of being a CEO. Clarus, Cor, Nyx, everyone who worked for Lucid loved and admired Regis. He had stood at the top like a king, adored by his people and envied by his rivals. Now, he was laid low by the folly of a single moment.

“It was so fast,” Clarus muttered, voice watery, shaking his head again. “The other car came out of nowhere, they didn’t even slow down. The traffic camera caught them running the light, and security cameras filmed the driver running away, but Regis…”

Noctis swallowed thickly, head bowed. “Enough. I don’t need to hear it.” He turned from the window and put his hands over his face. He’d seen the video. He saw the SUV driver recklessly, fecklessly blaze through the red and directly into the driver’s side of his father’s car. He’d seen the car roll and flip, saw his father crash through the windshield and tumble onto the asphalt and glass like a ragdoll, saw-

“Noct.” Gladio grabbed his arm. “Noct, they’re taking care of him. You can’t freak out now, it won’t help him.”

"Yeah, I know. There's nothing I can do," Noctis growled, surprising even himself as he jerked his arm from Gladio's grip. "I'm useless here, but where the hell else am I supposed to go?!"

"Calm down! We're all upset. Getting mad won't help him." Gladio showed his teeth as he drew himself up, but Clarus turned and yanked his sleeve.

"You're one to talk! Give the man some space for a damned minute." Clarus groaned and put his head in his hands. "Damn this whole fiasco. Regis…" Clarus' throat tightened, and he shook his head. Noctis felt a lump in his throat and clenched his fists.

"I just want to know why."

"It was an accident," Gladio muttered.

"It looks like one." Cor strode back in just then, putting his phone in his back pocket. "However, because the other driver fled, the police are investigating. There are a few anomalies." Noctis and Gladio both faced Cor, tense, Noctis’ knuckles going white.

"'Anomalies?' What do you mean?"

"As in, there's no evidence the other driver braked at all, though that light was red for forty seconds at the time of the collision." Cor crossed his arms. "Or, more damning, that car? Since the driver left it at the scene, the police ran the VIN. The car was sold to a corporation, Zoom International Administrations., P.A., at auction from impound a month ago. They investigated the corporation in question. None of the information attached to the sale can be verified, the phones are dead, and even the corporate registration leads to a bunch of shell companies." Noctis inhaled sharply, as if he could smell the name Izunia in the details, as Cor crossed his arms. "Lucid will fully cooperate with the police as they investigate what appears to be a deliberate, intentional vehicular assault, and possible attempted homicide. I've volunteered to be their point of contact." He glanced significantly between Noctis, Clarus, and Gladio, his gaze like a pin through a butterfly's wings each time it landed. "However, that leaves the question of what to do about Lucid's leadership."

"You already know the answer," Gladio muttered, then slapped Noctis on the back. "This guy right here. Regis just made a big stand about him taking over, after all."

Noct held his breath. The ring on his finger was suddenly constricting him. "I…" He'd thought he had another twenty years before he had to keep that promise. It had been meant to be a covenant rather than a threat, and now, Noctis felt the impact of his father's will like a bullet in his back.

But he'd still accepted that promise, as sure as a wedding vow. "I'll make an announcement. A press release. We'll let everyone know I'll be taking over for Dad while he recovers." He glanced to Clarus, studying his steely eyes and stone face for approval. "We should probably send a personal message to investors. Something like a video, like what we do for the holidays."

"Wise approach. Move quickly and speak loudly, so your voice is heard first." Clarus gave a jerky nod. "We can't afford a drop in investor confidence now. Not with Aldercapt trying to circle us for a hostile takeover."

"Alright. I'll get my best people on it." Noctis managed a wry smile. "Lucky me, three of them are here." Gladio managed a hoarse chuckle, as Noctis went for his phone. "I'll call number four now."

Ignis' line rang twice before he picked up. _ "I'm on my way now." _

"Good." Noctis exhaled. “And, uh, that thing we were discussing earlier.”

_ “Prompto?” _ Ignis paused. _ “I presume you’re not alone. I returned Prompto to his boarding house. I have provided him no details for the time being, but I let him know there was an emergency, and that we’d be in touch again as soon as possible.” _ Noctis heard the regret in his voice, but Ignis declared, _ “I know this will be a great hurdle to clear, but I’m with you for every step we must take.” _

“Thanks, man.” Noctis heaved a sigh. "We need to get control of this situation and now. See you soon." He turned back to the others, not looking back at his father prone in bed and putting everything else but his father from his mind. He stood with his shoulders back, hoping he could be half the giant his father was. "Let's get to work."

* * *

Prompto stored his camera in the closet he shared with Cindy and thought back to the car ride back with Ignis. The others had been gone when Prompto had finished his portfolio, and though Ignis had accepted it with a smile, he'd said, "An emergency had come up, and unfortunately, I must attend to it. I'll drive you home," and though Prompto wanted to ask, Ignis didn't really give him a chance to. 

Besides, he'd been told not to ask clients unnecessary questions.

Ignis had been tense and quiet, saying little and only smiling faintly at Prompto's cheerful attempts at conversation. Had something happened? Had he made a mistake? Did they not like his pictures? Was it something he said? 

Or maybe this was Ignis’ way of getting rid of him. Ignis had gotten what he wanted and decided he was done, but felt bad enough about Prompto's stupid sob story to try to find something else for Prompto so he wouldn't feel guilty about throwing him away. Keep him close, so if he changed his mind Prompto would be there. He'd find a spot in his perfectly organized life and file Prompto away there until he wanted him. It made sense. Ignis was busy, he loved his job, and as much as he liked the distraction, the job came first. Prompto couldn't be anywhere near that important.

Prompto stepped back, sighed, and hit himself on the forehead a few times. "That won't help," he told himself. Instead, he closed his camera away, tucked well out of sight so the house guards wouldn’t find it if they decided to do a room check looking for drugs or whatever. It seemed they’d been through earlier, at least - Loqi had left an envelope on the bedside table with a post-it reminding him to “do your damn home contact.” Prompto sighed as he picked up the paper, and did the same thing he’d been doing:

_ “Dear Ignis: _

_ I’m wondering if maybe I let myself get too close to you. One of the first things Aranea tried to teach me was not to get too friendly with clients, no matter how nice they were to me, because they’d just take advantage of me for free sex or exploit me. I thought, at first, you didn’t even want me for sex, so how could that be all I was good for to you? I used to mind the work a lot less, until I started enjoying spending time with you. Whenever other people called me, I knew I’d just be disappointed. Sure, I can sleep with anyone, but I don't actually like it. Even if I get off, it just doesn't feel good at all. It’s weird, I used to be so okay with going in, doing what I had to do, and leaving. I didn’t care that I was just a good time, that my body was just a thing to be bought and used. I think I started thinking of myself like a doll, like a robot put together just to do what they wanted me to do. I had my own life around that, but it was empty. _

_ With you, Noctis and Gladiolus, for just a few hours, I got to feel like an actual person. I was real. _

_ I want to be real with someone. I want to be kept. I know this started with you buying me, but I wish you’d keep me. Please tell me what I have to do right? _

_ Love, Prompto" _

“I thought—” Prompto jumped as Aranea’s voice sounded in his doorway, and he flailed, knocking over the bucket of pens and Cindy’s magazines. Then, his mind caught up with him, and he slowly turned to see her raising an eyebrow at him. “You alright, shortcake?”

“Y-yeah, fine. Sorry. I, uh, was kind of…” He gestured lamely at the paper. “Uh. Home contact.”

“You said you’d lost contact with your parents.” Aranea trudged towards him, slicking a strand of sleek platinum hair behind her ear. Prompto sighed.

“Yeah, tell Tummelt that. He needs to see me carrying a filled envelope, so I just started writing letters to… a guy I like.” 

“Oh.” Aranea’s eyes crinkled a little, and she sauntered towards him. “That’s what I like about you, kid. You’re not jaded yet.” She carded her fingers into his hair. “All the guys you meet, and you actually like one. He must be special.”

“He… he is.” Prompto looked down. “Um, did’ja need something?”

Aranea’s fingers stilled against his scalp. “I did.” She withdrew her hand and crossed her arms. “You got requested by a new client. It’s actually Cindy’s regular, but he asked for 'her friend.'"

"Her friend?" Prompto repeated, frowning, and thought for a moment. Then, he remembered Cindy's rescue of him, and encountering a client of hers in the hall. "Oh, was it that guy? From the other day?"

"I don't know how he knows you." Aranea shook her head. "Just, he asked for 'Sydney's blond friend, the young man.' Like that." Aranea's tongue curled around the words like she was avoiding them. Prompto rolled those words around in his own head and scrunched his nose. 

"Kinda weird."

"Pretty sure Cin calls him 'the Creep' for a reason." Aranea put her arm around Prompto's shoulder. "But hey, we can't always have the clients we want, right? You got this." Her smile was encouraging, but her touch was tense. 

"Y… yeah." Prompto bit his lip. "I'll get ready. You got an address for me?"

"He'll be here in about half an hour, in one of the rooms. Just be in the front lobby by then." Aranea shrugged, then eyed him. "Just… Watch him, alright? He can be particular, but even though it's the job, you're allowed to say when stuff isn't okay."

"I'll keep it in mind." Prompto grimaced at the thought: telling a client 'no' was a fast way to lose a tip. If they were going to tip at all. He bit his lip as Aranea withdrew and moved for the door. "Hey, Aranea?" She glanced over her shoulder, eyebrow raised. "Um… I might be trying to get another job, so I can pay my debt a little faster. If I can get a second job and just give you the money, can I-"

"Yeah." Aranea turned around again, arms crossed, head cocked. She was studying him again, but her face split into another wry smile. "I'll make it happen for you, kid. I believe in you." Prompto grinned.

"Thanks! You're the best!"

"Don't thank me yet. Just keep that good spirit." She pinched his cheek. "Don't let anyone take that optimism from you, okay?" Prompto nodded, and she turned and left, shaking her head. He heard her say the rest to herself: "Especially the Creep."

Prompto didn't like the sound of that. Cindy never told him what it was she hated about working with The Creep, only that she hated him. It was his job, though, so it had to be done.

* * *

Prompto had tried to think of what a man who liked a girl like Cindy might like in a guy like him, and ended up going for the basics - skin-tight skinny jeans, a black tank top with a faded Wyld Chocobeaux logo on it, and his usual riff on a faux-hawk hairstyle. When he got to the front lobby, Biggs was waiting with a numbered room key and a sympathetic frown. Prompto went right back up the steps to find the room. The Creep, apparently, had expensive tastes: he’d splurged on one of the bigger rooms, one of the ones with a king-sized four-poster bed, and he'd paid for someone to put a bucket of ice with a bottle of red wine by the bedside. The lights were already dimmed, a faint yellow glow against the burgundy sheets, and there was a black suitcase just waiting on the end of it. Particular, Aranea had said. Prompto wondered just who this guy was.

Then, the door opened, and Prompto didn't have to wonder anymore.

Prompto remembered the VIP in haute-couture fashion who'd spoken to Cindy a few days prior when she'd rescued him from Ulldor's office, and he was certain he'd seen him around before. This was just his first chance to get a good look: the wild red hair under a brimmed hat, angular jaw and high cheekbones over hollow cheeks, the keen, intent gaze of amber eyes that almost looked golden in the low light. He closed the door tight and strode towards Prompto, taking him in as if he owned him. He stopped at arm's length, then circled Prompto like he was sizing up a side of beef for purchase, then dragged a finger down Prompto's jawline like he was carving off a sample. 

"You are a specimen, aren't you?" His voice was smooth, low and husky, with an air of the debauched debonair. Prompto put on a smile. He kind of sounded like Ignis, if Prompto pretended as hard as he could that the fingers still on his chin weren't like a hawk's talons.

"Most just call me Sil. It's nice to—"

"The voice is wrong."

Prompto blinked, because the Creep was suddenly opening the suitcase—Prompto saw papers, ropes, and a strip of condoms—and shaking his head with regret. "Your eyes are lovely, but the voice… I suppose a match is impossible. I'm very sorry, darling boy." The Creep withdrew and held up a ball gag. "I'm going to have to ask you to be quiet."

Prompto swallowed, but nodded with his mouth shut tight. This wasn't his first rodeo, after all. 

If Prompto kept his eyes shut tight, he might have been able to pretend it wasn't a stranger stripping his clothes away with ease. It was Ignis moving and posing him like a puppet as confidently and easily as if he'd always held his strings. Ignis' hands struck his thighs until they burned red like an abrupt sunset, and the ice cubes that melted on his heated flesh were put there by that same hand. Maybe if Prompto opened his eyes, Ignis would smile down at him and ask if he was enjoying himself, if he wanted more.

Instead, the Creep gagged him the moment he opened his mouth to cry out, and when he opened his eyes in surprise, he smirked from his place above Prompto. "I insist you remain quiet. I warned you, did I not, darling?" Prompto whimpered against the gag, even as something cold was pushed into his passage—_ ice cube _—chased by weathered, callused fingertips and pressed deep with a vicious twist. The Creep seemed to gloat in the silence as Prompto, wide-eyed and twisting at the waist as if he could escape the shock of the cold to his insides, backed up. "Ah, that's it. You do look familiar, don't you?" Then, his hand withdrew, only for him to wipe them on the sheets and grab a bottle of lubricant. 

Prompto didn't dare close his eyes again. He stared through the ceiling, biting at the gag as the Creep got what he'd paid for. He took what he wanted, and without once giving Prompto the chance to speak again.

Not that he would have. It just would have been nice if he could have pretended to enjoy it a little more.

His jaw was sore by the time the Creep decided he'd had enough and released the ball gag. He lay there for a long minute, panting and mouthing at the pillow, then grinding his teeth to flex his mouth. He heard the Creep moving around above him, but ignored it, instead closing his eyes for a long, long minute and trying to recompose himself. When he did get his hands under him and pushed himself off his belly to sit and smear the drool from his mouth and the dampness from his cheeks, the Creep was standing there, observing him with an eerie smile. The Creep offered him a bottle of water, then examined his face. "You'll want an aspirin or the like, no doubt." He clicked his tongue, then stood back. "I haven't got any, but may I offer you some red wine and a shower? Perhaps another round?" He grinned crookedly, and though Prompto wanted to be charmed, he couldn't manage much more than a smile in return. Instead, he rubbed his sore jaw and staggered to his feet. 

“Shower, please.” 

The Creep lifted his shoulders. “Suit yourself.” Prompto nodded and shuffled past him to the open bathroom door. He could hear him pulling his shirt back on, then a chime, and he took a cell phone from his discarded jacket:

"Izunia speaking."

Prompto closed the door and turned the shower on. He didn't want to hear that voice, too low, too smooth, too similar to the one he wanted to hear. He closed his eyes tight as he stepped into the cold spray, and tried to pretend a warmer hand might smooth soap down his back.

When he stepped out again, toweling his hair, The Creep was lounging on the bed, hairy legs crossed as he propped his back against the leather backboard as he watched a video. Prompto heard a distinct voice from the speaker:

_ "... The grievous tragedy that has befallen my father is still painful, but he is under the best care, and though his road to recovery may be long, I believe he will walk with us again soon." _

"Noct?" Prompto couldn't withhold a little gasp, and edged closer. Indeed, The Creep was livestreaming some video feed, and Noctis was seated at some fancy desk with Gladiolus' dad on the right side of him with Gladio himself behind him, and Ignis and some guy Prompto sort of remembered meeting at the party to his left. Ignis was impassive on the screen, focused on some point just above the camera as Noctis kept speaking:

_ “My father made his wishes clear when last he addressed you. Until my father is well enough to lead, I will be acting CEO in his stead. My father has taught me a great deal of what he knows, and I have the support of his most trusted people. Lucid Designs has some of the greatest talent and the best minds working today, and I am proud to say they will be at my side.” _

“Do you know the young man?” The Creep was staring at him. Prompto blinked, then put on a coy grin.

“Maybe! He kind of looks like a guy from my high school. Funny, huh?” Prompto giggled a little. “I dunno if it’s him or not, though. Um.” He tried to look shy and a little knock-kneed. “Do you know him?”

“Indirectly, but yes. Old family connection.” Izunia didn’t look up, smirking with an eerie vicious tilt to it his mouth that made his angular face look just plain evil. Like, cartoonishly so. If the guy had a mustache, he’d be twirling it. Instead, Prompto’s guts twisted up. “The young man sounds a proper prince, doesn’t he? The scion of a noble old family—Lucid’s been family run for generations, after all. Even so, every royal family has its share of scandals, does it not?”

Prompto shivered outright. He could usually ignore the weird stuff about a client—body odor, odd moles, hygiene in the shared bed—but this was beyond weird. This was just plain creepy. Prompto got it now.

Then, Izunia did look at him—or through him. “I’m afraid I’ll be rescinding my offer for further entertainment, I’ve some business to attend.” He turned that smirk on him, too friendly, too cold, then poked at Prompto’s chest. “Why don’t you go along back before you turn into a pumpkin?”

Prompto couldn’t keep his smile from slipping from his face. “Yeah. Sure. Nice to meet you, Mister.” Prompto turned, and Izunia didn’t even move to watch him dress. Prompto could still hear Noctis’ voice talking indistinctly from the phone as he shut the door behind him, back into the bright fluorescent lights of the hotel hallway. Prompto tried to suck in a breath, shivering in the aftermath.

He’d never felt so outright _ used _ by a client before. Maybe he’d just been spoiled on pretending he wasn’t.

He got a full breath into his lungs, and sang it back out as he walked away. _ “Who will buy my sweet red roses? Two blooms for a penny...” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tracklist #8 - "Fitzpleasure," alt-J  
_Steepled fingers, ring... leaders_  
_Queue jumpers, rock fist paper scissors_  
_Lingered fluffers; they choir..._
> 
> Prompto is repeating the lyrics to "Who Will Buy?" from Oliver.


	11. Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis deals with what comes after the disaster, and starts looking into what was behind it and what comes next.

**11\. Fallout**

Prompto’s phone was ringing. Prompto lifted his head from his pillow to grab it, saw the time—_ six a.m., _ _ shit _ _ — _then pressed it to his ear. “H’lo?”

_ “Oh, darling, I woke you, I’m tremendously sorry.” _

_ ‘Darling?’ _ That voice! “Oh, Iggy!” Prompto sat up so fast he hit his head on the underside of the top bunk, and groaned aloud, inadvertently dropping the phone. Cindy rolled over and mumbled a shush from her pillow, and Prompto scrambled to pick up the phone.

_ “... there? I heard something, are you—” _

“Just bumped my head, sorry!” Prompto whispered, then crept from the bed and into the closet, shutting it tight. “Bunk beds.”

_ “Bunk beds?” _ Ignis clicked his tongue. _ “Please do be careful.” _

“Y… yeah. Sorry.” 

_ “Whatever are you apologizing for? I had called to apologize in the first place.” _ The little touch of amusement in Ignis’ voice faded. _ “I… there was an accident. Noctis’ father was grievously injured in a car accident.” _

Prompto recalled what Noctis had been saying in the video he saw, then the Creep watching with plain amusement. A chill ran through him from toe to tip. “Y… yeah, I heard.”

_ “Damned paparazzi. They couldn’t wait until triage was over to start swarming the poor man.” _ Ignis heaved a sigh, trying to banish the anger from his voice. _ “It’s… it’s terribly unfortunate, and poor timing. I wanted to apologize to you, however, for abruptly ending our time together yesterday.” _

“I understand. You seemed close with Mr. Caelum.”

_ “He was… He’s like a father to me.” _ Ignis paused. _ “But please, take me at my word when I say the shift in leadership, albeit temporary, will not affect your internship.” _

“That’s not important!” Prompto curled his legs into his chest. “Is Noctis okay?”

Ignis was silent a moment. _ “He’s… he’s handling things precisely as well as can be expected.” _

“Please tell him I’m sorry about his dad.” Prompto squeezed the phone. “I’ll, um, send flowers. Should I send flowers?”

Ignis laughed softly. Prompto thought he heard him say something like “_selfless"_ off of the receiver. _ “The thought is deeply appreciated, I assure you, but there’s nowhere to put flowers at the moment. When Mr. Caelum regains consciousness and is allowed visitors, however, I’m certain he’ll be glad of our company.” _

“Our?” Prompto tried not to sound too hopeful. He definitely failed.

_ “We can go together.” _ Ignis exhaled. _ “I truly am loathe of what I must say, but I am not certain when I will next be able to see you. Unless…” _

“Unless?”

Ignis was quiet again, and Prompto heard nothing but his anxious breathing. _ “Prompto, are you safe where you are?” _

That took Prompto by surprise. “What do you mean?”

_ “Only… there is some suspicion over the nature of Mr. Caelum’s injury.” _ Prompto startled—someone hurt him on purpose?!—but Ignis went on, _ “There is some concern that whoever sought to harm Mr. Caelum may attempt to take action against others connected to Lucid. As tenuous as your connection to Lucid is, I’m worried for you.” _

“Aw, Iggy.” Prompto put his hand over his heart. “I’ll be careful. Promise.”

There was more silence on the other end of the line. Then, _ “Alright. I’ll try to check in on you, darling, but I fear I’ll be tied up.” _

“I understand. Just text me when you have a chance, okay?”

_ “I’ll do my best.” _ Ignis sounded sad now. _ “Until I can see you again.” _

“Yeah, ‘til next time.” Prompto heard Ignis hang up, then turned his phone around, set the timer on the camera, and set up for a snap against the crowded closet wall. He posed, waited for the timer to run, and smiled for Ignis. 

Then, he grabbed his chest. "He called me ‘darling.’"

Hope built in him like a bubble, some shield against the miserable memories of the previous night, and he stood, ready to face the day. Even if he was doing it alone for now, he was important to someone out there.

* * *

Ignis sighed as he hung up the phone, then turned to look out his office window. It was far too early to be here—even he usually didn’t start until seven—but he had too much on his plate. He had a few hundred emails from suppliers, partners, collaborators, junior designers, and reporters. He sighed, pinched his brow, and slumped into his desk chair. “I’m an artist, not a public relations representative,” he muttered, and moved to take the mouse. Just as he did, his phone chimed. He scowled as he grabbed it, only to see it was from Prompto: an image of him in a small room, dressed down to an oversized tank that slid off his shoulder, beaming like sunshine and making the shape of a heart with his hands. Ignis’ chest tightened.

“The sooner I deal with this, the sooner I can attend to matters that aren’t work.” He turned to his inbox loaded with emails and set about diplomatically handling all of them.

Three hours later, Ignis was finished answering the emails he could and sorting those he couldn’t—delete, show Noctis and ask for guidance, or ignore until he felt like giving an answer (curse the paparazzi). Ignis examined the remaining emails, then looked down to his phone, the image of Prompto smiling for him from his lock screen. One task done, one step closer to him. 

He could have been closer. He had been on the verge of asking Prompto to stay with him, to come and sleep under his roof. That way, Ignis would know precisely who was watching over him, and he could know for certain that Prompto was safe. 

The similarities between the management of Prompto’s escort service and the ownership of the car that had struck Regis had not escaped Ignis. It hadn’t escaped Noct, either. The phone call had been his suggestion in the first place. 

“Yo.”

Noctis, out of nowhere, as usual. Ignis spun in his chair and glared at him. “I’ve asked you to knock.”

“I haven’t listened.” Noctis smiled wryly, but despite his usual snark, he looked very, very tired. “Cute background.” Ignis realized his phone screen was lit up, with that photograph of Prompto still very, very visible. Ignis locked his phone.

“Nosiness is less than endearing, you know.”

“Come on, Specs, if Luna were the type to take cute selfies, you know I’d do the same.” Noctis exhaled through his nose and stood back from Ignis’ rolling desk chair. “You talk to him?”

Ignis relaxed and relented. “I did.”

“And he’s safe?” 

“He didn’t sound upset, or in any immediate danger.”

Noctis shook his head and set his hands on his hips. “That doesn’t mean much. You and I both saw that weird shell game. What if Prompto’s owned by Aldercapt somewhere in there?”

That caught something in Ignis’ memory: “Now that you mentioned, he did say his roommate was a model, in a dreadful contract.” Ignis spun in his chair and opened some of the industry files. “I believe we still have Aldercapt’s advertising campaigns from the summer.”

Noct lolled over Ignis’ shoulder, yawning occasionally as Ignis filtered through the information until he found the advertisements. Billboards, posters, magazine inserts. “Green eyes, fair, dirty blonde hair…” He landed on an image of a beautiful girl in a bikini, bent at the waist and knee and winking as she showed off her high heels. “A curious coincidence. Green eyes are uncommon, you know.”

“She matches the description. Prompto’s roommate looks like that?” Noctis took the mouse from Ignis and zoomed in. “Her name’s nowhere on this, either. That’s sketchy as hell.”

“Perhaps it was edited in by the individual magazines, but…” Ignis looked at the photograph copies and copyright information. “No, she’s not listed here either.”

“I’m not liking this, Ignis.” Noct straightened up. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Ignis, still frowning, turned in the chair to look up at Noctis. “Spell it out, if you would.”

Noctis exhaled, then said, “Aldercapt... might basically own at least some of their models. Do the debt thing, like the temp agency did to Prompto, deliberately get them up to their eyeballs in hock to them, then write a contract for modeling that chains them to Aldercapt.”

"Highly possible." Ignis chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment as he mulled over the implications. "I also must wonder… I don’t know whether or not Prompto’s roommate is expected to do more than model, but I fear they might expect their models to earn them money in more than one way, given that she lives at the same brothel...” Ignis tented his fingers. “Is it at all possible that Aldercapt is that dirty?”

“I have no idea.” Noctis finally grabbed Ignis’ stool from under his drawing board and slumped into it. “I know Dad thinks Aldercapt is rotten to the core, but I always thought it was just because they were willing to hire a guy like Izunia.”

“I’m afraid I can’t say. I know little about Izunia or Aldercapt, other than Aldercapt is a direct competitor that seems to have a grudge against us directly, and Izunia directly seems to have some quarrel with your father, based on conversations I overheard. However, whatever it is, I’m not privy to the details. Noctis, do you know anything more?”

Noctis shook his head. “My dad won’t tell me, he only said that Izunia’s persona non grata.” He scratched his head and tugged at the roots of his hair. “I’d ask when he came up, but dad wouldn’t tell me.”

“Mine wouldn’t tell me either.” Ignis and Noctis both turned to see Gladio lumbering in the door, and he crossed his arms. “I know he knows, and I know he’s keeping it from me deliberately. He says all I need to know is that Izunia’s bad news.” 

Ignis tapped his desk as he thought. “I'm aware of Aldercapt's grudge, and that they wish to swallow Lucid. But if there's a personal drive behind it, such would be news to me. Given that Noct is presently in charge, I would think he should be privy to all information regarding our adversaries.”

“I’ve got the details on Aldercapt itself, but Izunia’s specifics are foggy." Noctis looked to Gladio. "And you asked your dad, but he wouldn't say."

"Despite everything, he still sees me as a kid." Gladio clicked his tongue, then smirked. "But I know someone from their time who won't. Cor's worked for Lucid since he got out of the army. He knows everything Dad does. I know he respects Iggy. If Iggy asks, I'm sure Cor would say."

Ignis scoffed as he got to his feet. "So, you would use me to get information out of Cor?" He pulled his jacket on. "If the two of you promise to answer some of these emails and do some actual work, I'll play your spy."

Noctis whipped his phone out. "You wanna check my sent emails?"

"I'll check your data usage for whatever mobile game you're playing. Return to your offices, we'll discuss later." Ignis smiled wryly and strolled out.

Ignis found Cor in his office, standing at his work bench with a hammer in his hand and setting a stud into the wall of a boot. Ignis grimaced; Cor was not the kind of person one asked for PR work, so he likely could only help in the effort by continuing to work as hard as he ever did. He looked over his shoulder at Ignis, gaze hard and petrifying. "I imagine Noct is still busy fielding questions."

"I should hope so. Many questions remain." Ignis closed the door, and approached Cor as he turned back around and hammered the stud the rest of the way in. "Any word from the police?"

"No new developments." The clang of the hammer reverberated. "Any improvement to Regis' condition?"

"He's stable, which is, quite frankly, the best we can hope for." Ignis lowered his eyes as Cor pulled his mouth into a pinched line. "He's been conscious for brief periods and has tried to speak, which is a positive sign, but they're attempting to keep him asleep. He'd be in too much pain otherwise."

"Hmph." Cor furrowed his brow, then pulled another stud from his toolbox and set it. "Keep me apprised, and I'll do the same."

"Of course." Ignis felt Cor close off as sure as if the door had been shut in his face, without actually pushing him out. Instead, Ignis waited a moment, before clearing his throat. "I had hoped to ask…"

Cor turned again, frowning and crossing his arms. 

Ignis cleared his throat again. "We were discussing the ownership of the car that struck Regis, and you mentioned a connection to Aldercapt. It seemed that an old foe of Regis' came up, Ardyn Izunia. I'm afraid I'm only familiar with the man by name."

"Ad exec for Aldercapt. He’s an obsequious, unpleasant charlatan." Cor's face tightened as if wound by a screw. "He's not a pleasant man. Never was, not when I knew him, and not now."

"Did you know him?" Ignis raised an eyebrow.

"He was a junior photographer back when I was cutting leather for Regis' father." Cor pointedly pounded in the next stud, then adjusted the leather piece. "He was a school friend of Regis'. Apparently, growing up, he and Regis were practically brothers, and Regis had said he wanted Ardyn with him when he took over.” Ignis raised his eyebrow, and Cor continued gruffly, “From what I saw, though, around the time Regis began to court Aera, their relationship started to strain." He ground his jaw for a moment. “I suspect they were rivals for Aera’s affection. One way or another, Regis won out, and while it didn’t end their friendship, Ardyn held some obvious resentment.

"Then, there was an incident with a model during a shoot. Ardyn was accused of some impropriety."

"Impropriety?" Ignis’ shoulders tensed. Cor was intently focused on his work, fingers stiff. 

"If my understanding is right, the young lady was having some anxiety about the shoot. Supposedly, he gave her some sort of pill, and she had a seizure on set. Ambulances swarmed the place. PR nightmare." Cor shook his head. "Mors, Regis' father, was a dragon to deal with on his good days, so he came down hard on Ardyn. Demanded answers. Regis and Aera had been there—Regis was supervising on Mors’ behalf, and Aera was the head stylist. She’d been the last one to talk to the girl before the shoot, primping her up for her moment in the spotlight. Regis could only say what he saw once the poor girl came out of the dressing room, but Aera, supposedly, had to tell Mors what she saw: Ardyn speaking with the young lady, and then seeing her…” Cor motioned vaguely to his face with a hand. “Appearing unwell. Aera had to tell Mors the model was unfocused and unsteady on her feet, and though she’d asked her how she was feeling, the model didn’t want to call off the shoot. Mors accused, Ardyn objected—he insisted that he only gave her a caffeine pill to perk her up, as she didn’t want any coffee or the like before the shoot. Mors didn’t believe him, declared that Ardyn gave her something illicit, and Regis didn’t stand up for him.” 

Ignis had to ask: “Did the young woman have anything to say later?”

Cor was silent for a very long moment. “She did say she’d asked Ardyn to give her something to help her. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she said it made her heart race. It was too late anyway. Mors dismissed Ardyn before she woke up, and Ardyn ran right to Aldercapt.” Cor sighed, and took out another stud, dragging his fingers on the leather. “They took him—Aldercapt’s been a rival since long before Ardyn joined them, so snatching up one of their rising stars was sand in our eyes—but he’s gotten worse. Supposedly, ever since he became an exec, he’s been the ringleader for action against Lucid. We can’t convincingly prove anything, but he seems to have eyes on the inside, taking notes from our plans, stealing business strategies to counter them, and of course his stock-buying schemes.”

Ignis gripped at his brow as he tried to work his mind around it. “And we can’t prove any of it.”

“Half of it isn't illegal, and we can't prove the rest. All we know for certain is that Ardyn Izunia hates Regis and Lucid, likely hates Noctis by association, and has held his grudge against Lucid for nearly thirty years now.” Cor turned to face Ignis. “Regis has expressed some regret for how he handled it. He thinks that Ardyn’s only gone as dark as he had because he was spurned for perceived wrongdoing, but it doesn’t change that Ardyn would do anything to ruin Regis now. The man’s a scourge.” He put his hands on his hips. “Let me guess; the suspicion around Izunia is making you wonder, Regis never told Noctis, and Clarus won’t tell Gladiolus.”

Ignis harrumphed to himself. He should have known Cor was perceptive enough to see through that. “Know thine enemy.”

“I’m inclined to agree.” Cor actually smiled faintly. “You’re an intelligent young man. The three of you are the future of Lucid, you deserve to have the full picture.” He strode a few steps closer, speaking a little lower. “Just keep your business close and tight and you’ll have nothing to worry about. Ardyn can only slip into cracks if we leave them visible.”

Ignis’ throat tightened for a moment. An image, unbidden, of Prompto’s beaming smile, flashed into his mind. 

His phone pinged right then. Ignis checked and saw a text from an unfamiliar number.

_ "Delphi" _

A bolt of fire ran down Ignis' spine and landed in his gut like a meteor. "I'm afraid I must take this." Cor nodded and turned back to his work bench. 

"Know thine enemy, Scientia."

Ignis hurried out of Cor's office without another word and dialed the number. The pickup was immediate, but nobody spoke. Ignis cleared his throat, but spoke calmly, evenly, “I received a text from this number. I believe you have the-”

_ “No, you don’t.” _

A voice, a man’s rich tenor, like a purring panther echoed down the line—a voice Ignis didn’t know, but who spoke with the confidence of someone who knew him. _ “You know very well I don’t have the wrong number, Delphi.” _

Ignis didn’t like the way the man said that false name. He didn’t at all like that the man said that name in the first place.

“Is there something with which I can assist you?” He spoke _ sotto voce _ as he hurried to find some sort of private room. 

_ “Oh, there is, there certainly is. You see, I have some interest in your company.” _ Ignis shivered at the lascivious bend to his tones. _ “And I also happen to have some very interesting information about your personal interests. I imagine you would prefer this information to remain between you, myself, and a certain young man.” _

“And I presume you would like something in exchange.” Ignis finally ducked into an empty meeting room and shut the door tight behind him. “What is it you want of me, Izunia?”

_ “Information. I know you have a direct channel to the young boy playing king of the castle. I’d like you to keep me apprised of his actions, plans, and stratagems.” _

Ignis didn’t hesitate. “Surely you jest.” He paced across the room. “Do you think I’d honestly betray my life’s work over mere allegations?”

_ “Is that what you think it is?” _

“You have no proof of anything untoward, as you have not shown any evidence thereof.” Ignis adjusted his glasses. “I have no intention of giving you anything in exchange for nothing.”

The other end of the line crackled with static. Ignis could swear he heard a car passing, and then faint, reedy laughter. Then, _ “I thought you would say as much. Very well then. I’ve already won either way, you’ve merely chosen my prize.” _

“I beg your—” The other end of the line died. Ignis startled, then fell still, standing on his front foot between shafts of light from the outside windows, then sighed and tried to relax. 

There was no way that person, no matter who they were, could share his secret. For good measure, however, he sent Prompto a text:

_ "Please be careful." _

Vague, but hopefully enough. Ignis knew he could trust Prompto, but if Izunia was deliberately playing in bad faith, even earnest Prompto might be at risk of betrayal. Ignis straightened his jacket, took a deep breath, and messaged Noctis:

_ "Let's get lunch and discuss. Cor has provided some invaluable information about our enemy, and we must be prepared for his next move." _

He put all thoughts of the phone call from his mind. Even if it was Izunia, Ignis was confident Izunia had no leverage on him. He had to be. Izunia's hatred of Noctis was dangerous enough, but the mere thought that he could use Ignis—or worse, use _ Prompto _ and Ignis' connection to him—to hurt Noctis? Unforgivable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tracklist #11 - "The Mouse and The Model," Dresden Dolls  
  
_It's dark over here on the flip side of reason_  
_The tease, it could be something easy like they did it in a book_  
_You're a crook_  
_You're a fake_  
_You're committed_  
_If you did it, say you did it, if you didn't, SUCK IT UP and say you did!_


	12. The Fall Out Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble comes home to roost, and it lands directly on the shoulders of our heroes...

**12\. The Fall Out Boy**

It shouldn't have bothered Ignis that Gladio could devour an unholy amount of pasta in a blink—he was a large man with an aggressive exercise routine and an appetite to match—but it made his stomach sink and twist to watch him slurp down an entire restaurant portion of shrimp diavolo over Angel hair pasta in five minutes then dig into a side of garlic bread. A minor problem in the long run, but at least it was a welcome distraction.

They had holed up in Gladio's cramped office in the basement and ordered in Italian for lunch, Noctis getting a personal pizza and picking away at it piece by piece as Ignis turned his vegetables over in the foil tray around the tuna steak for which he no longer had an appetite, as their lunch meeting turned into an afternoon marathon. Noctis reviewed his observations from the day—though there had been a small dip in their stock value and a noticeable sell off, it wasn’t as bad as a sudden leadership change would usually portend. Noctis was still watching the numbers ticking across the screen. “The fact that Dad’s still alive is probably cushioning some of the blow,” he remarked as he plucked a stray crumb off his crust, “but it wasn’t nearly as bad as we thought it’d be.”

“That’s a relief, and some of the hubbub around the crash is dying down, too.” Gladio guzzled at his soda, then wolfed down another hunk of garlic bread. Ignis snorted, and turned his face down to his phone screen.

Prompto hadn’t texted him back. He was probably busy, Ignis tried to tell himself, he likely had other _ clients_, other things to attend to. Especially if Ignis wasn’t going to call him over. Ignis dearly wished to hear his voice or see his face. He could at least do the first when he tapped his phone screen, Prompto’s beaming face waiting there for him.

"What should be our next step?" Ignis started when he realized Noctis was talking to him, and shoved his phone aside. 

"Fostering normalcy." Ignis tented his fingers. "We need to get back on schedule for the winter fashion shows and collections. Eliminate distractions. Have you made any sort of statement to the company at large?"

Gladio slapped Noctis on the back. "This guy got it. Drafted it while you were talking with Cor. My old man read and approved."

Ignis' heart sank, but he adjusted his tie and straightened his shoulders. "I'm disappointed you didn't show me, but if Clarus approved, that's fine."

"It's my family business, Specs," Noctis groused quietly. "I can handle stuff."

"I believe you, but I'm concerned." Ignis sighed. "I should trust you more. My apologies."

"You're untested," Gladio added. "We're all on pins and needles right now."

"No, no." Ignis shook his head and smiled wryly. "I should know better by now that Noct is _ sharp _enough to handle it."

Gladio snorted, and Noctis dragged a hand down his face, pulling at his sheepish smile. "Yeah. So, I guess Specs needs to get back to designing jewelry. Gladio should go talk to all the security guys, put them on high alert. I'm going to review the business plan Dad made and—"

Gladio's phone alerted just then, and he glanced to it. He inhaled sharply and fumbled, before slapping Ignis' shoulder. "Hell, fuck the plan, we have a new situation!" He dropped the phone onto the table, showing a breaking news article: 

_ "LUCID DESIGNER SPOTTED WITH SUSPECTED PROSTITUTE" _

Noctis jumped halfway across the table, throwing himself over to look at the article more closely. "Holy shit, Specs."

"There are pictures, Ignis!" Gladio scrolled down urgently and poked frantically at the screen, enlarging what appeared to be an image from a security camera. "Caption says it was taken outside of a suspected brothel. There's pictures taken from the same camera of women who are obviously hookers going in and out, and one with a girl very obviously _ plying her trade_, if you get me."

Ignis stared, jaw locked, at the image of Prompto exiting his car. "Where… how… these photographs!"

"Anonymous source," Noctis muttered, staring down into his phone where he'd surely pulled up the same article. "It's in all the gossip rags." He read further, face twisting into a grimace. "Gladio, don't let him see the rest of the article."

Gladio moved to take his phone back, but Ignis snatched it, only to find photographs of Prompto pinned to a bed by broad, knobby hands, used and spent, bruised and covered in love bites and finger-shaped bruises. The caption read, _ "The unidentified male prostitute in question. An anonymous source investigated the brothel and was able to obtain evidence of services he can provide." _

"Prompto, no." The words fell out as if knocked loose. He'd known what Prompto did to survive, but being faced with the reality that the kind, gentle, boyish Prompto he adored let himself be used by others like this felt like a knife to the chest. He thought he was whiting out, ears ringing, head aching, heart ablaze.

It wasn't until Gladio smacked his arm again that he crashed back to the moment. "Your phone, answer your phone!"

Ignis' phone screen was lit, but not by an image of his Prompto, soft and smiling. Clarus Amicitia was calling him, and Ignis answered, his blood already going cold. “Scientia.”

_ “You’d better have an explanation for this!” _

Ignis thrust his phone away from his head, ear ringing from Clarus' roar. Noctis started, Gladio groaned, and Ignis brought his phone back to his mouth, “I beg your pardon-”

_ “That boy! This article! These… pictures…" _ Clarus paused, and Ignis could hear him sucking up anger around disgust and grief just to spit it back again: _ "The blond boy from the gala! You hired a prostitute and brought him to a company function!” _ Ignis grimaced and pinched his brow, as Gladio edged back at the echo of his father's voice. _ "There are photographs of the two of you! Allegations of multiple encounters! Your name, your face, and Lucid are everywhere in this!" _

"My personal life has nothing to do with Lucid." Ignis braced his shoulders and balled his empty hand into a fist.

_ "It does when you're a public figure and the news keeps saying 'Lucid's head jewelry designer' over and over!" _

"It's scurrilous rumor. Those photographs could have been altered." A cold bead of sweat rolled down Ignis' forehead.

_ “I'd believe you if you hadn't paraded the _ _ thing_ _past me." _ Ignis flinched, at a loss for words. _ "In my office, Scientia! Now!” _ Clarus’ phone call ended abruptly. Ignis felt his fingernails digging into his palms, too deep, and he turned to the other two, sitting and gazing at him wide-eyed.

“I—” His tongue tangled around the jumble of words, but Noctis stood and patted his arm.

"We'll deal with this," he said with a surprising amount of gentleness. "Let's all go talk to Gladio's dad together." 

"I got your back, Igs." Gladio clapped a big hand on his shoulder, and steered him towards the door. 

"I need to tell you." Ignis grabbed blindly at Noctis’ sleeve, his knees weak and wobbly as he tripped along between the others. He couldn't stop seeing Prompto laid low, hearing Clarus calling him a 'thing,' wondering what horrible things were being whispered about Prompto all over the city. "I have my suspicions that Ardyn Izunia is involved. You both must know what Cor told me."

"He spilled?" Gladio looked sideways at Ignis. 

"Let's begin here: he was a photographer for Lucid…" Ignis began to whisper the entire story, rueful that his nausea had returned in full force, his guts twisting as he was hollowed out from the inside. 

* * *

Clarus had a news report playing on his computer when Ignis entered with Noctis and Gladio at his back. Ignis felt cold sweat run down his neck as the gaudy celebrity news reporter finished parroting off her lines:

_ "... poor timing for Lucid, as they deal with a change in leadership after CEO Regis Caelum's car accident! Lucid Designs hasn't responded to the allegations, and so far, there have been no charges of solicitation filed against Mr. Scientia! What a shame, though! I used to dream about wearing a Scientia ring, but now, I just don't know if I can trust him!" _

"You're telling me, you vapid harlot." Clarus grunted and slammed his laptop shut before whirling on Ignis. "Where's that explanation, Scientia?"

Ignis hadn't composed one. Instead, he swallowed and lowered his eyes. "It's a misunderstanding."

"It didn't look like a misunderstanding when you were undressing him with your eyes at the gala." Clarus sneered, but Gladio stepped forward, arms crossed tight and deliberately not looking at Ignis.

"Look, Dad, Prompto might've been a prostitute when Iggy met him, but he's not a bad person. Iggy’ll make up for his mistakes, but neither he nor Prompto thought they were doing anything wrong." 

"He's a good guy," Noctis added, mercifully sounding neutral.

"He's a dear friend to me." Ignis closed his hands as if in plea. Clarus' nostrils flared.

"And how much did you pay for that friend?"

"I paid only our first encounter! He ceased to charge me after that!" Ignis yanked out his phone. "I can even show you. His escort group debited me directly." He opened his bank app and logged in, then searched the transactions. His heart hit the floor when two charges came up. Clarus breathed down his neck.

"The night of the gala. I hope you got your money's worth."

"I…" Ignis' mind and heart rushed again. Prompto had told him, that very night, that he hadn't been charging him for their visits because it wasn't _ work _. What did it mean that he'd charged him for every minute that night?

Prompto had charged him _ because _ they'd slept together. It was the most obvious answer, and it hit Ignis like a bullet to the heart. 

Clarus, meanwhile, growled into Ignis' ear, the noise raking through his lungs, "If any of the money you spent on that whore traces back to Lucid accounts—"

"Don't call him a whore!" Ignis threw his phone down and drew himself up. "I made an error in judgment. I am human. As for Prompto—" Ignis bit his name off, balling his fists to dam the emotion back— "He was companionship. Conversation. An escort to a major event to ward off unwanted suitors. I never utilized his services as suggested. The cost of that visit was only so high because he needed to rent appropriate attire."

"He's a nice kid," Gladio repeated fully, eyes low. Surely he'd realized Ignis' approach. "He shouldn't have to sleep with folks to make a living. Iggy was trying to work with him on his photography career."

"I'll do damage control," Ignis added quietly, devoid of emotion. As he should be in such situations. "I'll say exactly that.” He slowly, carefully knelt and picked up his phone. Prompto’s smile flashed at him, but he locked the phone just as quickly. “They don't have a photograph of me committing illegal acts nor any more proof than their 'anonymous source,' and the juxtaposition of an innocent car ride home with an unfortunate young man in a doubly unfortunate position."

Clarus was quiet for a moment, mouth tight, brow drawn. Finally, he growled, "Make it believable. Get a press release together and bring it to me post haste. Lies fly like an arrow. We won't let the truth limp behind." He turned from Ignis, rubbing his forehead. "I’ll tell Cor to look into the article, but we push back against the fallout now. Out with you, all three of you." 

"Clarus—" Noctis started, but Clarus' posture tightened.

"Out."

The door was slammed at their backs the moment Noctis cleared the threshold. Ignis was deaf to it, his shoulders starting to shake from being held stiff too long. Noctis took his arm.

“Hey. Come on. Let’s deal with this.”

“Yes. Of course.” Ignis took up his phone and walked a step behind the others. He dialed Prompto, it rang twice, then went to message. Ignis hesitated as the voicemail message played, then hung up, not knowing just what to say yet. 

He had to worry about what to tell everyone else. 

* * *

Prompto was really starting to dislike his job. 

He was grateful for a guy who treated him half-decent and smiled when they were done, who offered to call him a cab so he wouldn’t have to walk home by himself after sundown. Better than the afternoon job who needed someone to blow him under his desk during a video conference call, anyway. However, the fact remained that Prompto used to be way more okay with doing whatever strangers wanted with his body. It was just a body, after all. 

He’d been with someone who actually cared about what was inside, though, and every time someone else failed to live up to that, he felt a little hollow after.

“I’ve spoiled myself,” he chuckled wearily as he counted the tip, hunched over in his bus seat. At least the take was good. It would keep the owners off his back. It would hold him over until the photography internship came through. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to be with anyone unless he wanted to. He tucked the money into his wallet, then checked his phone. He saw a flashing light—voice mail. He saw that he had a missed call from Ignis, and listened to the message.

Nothing. There was a hiss of feedback, then silence. Had Ignis pocket-dialed him?

He moved his thumb to try to call Ignis back, but just as he tapped his contacts, a text from Cindy came up.

_ “Y didn’t u tell me u were fuckin scientia?” _

Prompto gasped, and immediately called Cindy. She sounded indignant when she picked up: _ “You could’a told him to hire me!” _

“Slow down, slow down! Cindy, how did— what are—”

_ “It’s on the news.” _She paused. _ “Prompto, you ain’t seen?!” _

“Seen what?!” Prompto ducked down in the bus seat, trying to keep quiet as his voice pitched.

_ “Someone had photos of you and Ignis Scientia, the jewelry designer! Had some other real nasty photos of you, too, showin’ everyone just what it is you do and sayin’ you did the same thing with him. Your name weren’t nowhere on it, but I know it’s you, ain’t nobody else got that cockatiel crest like what you…” _ Cindy slowed down. _ “Oh, Prompto. Don’t tell me he’s the hot guy you were talking about. The nice one?” _

“Cin, I—look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who he was, or that I knew him, but Iggy could’a gotten in tr—” He stopped cold when he realized. “You said there was an article?!”

_ “Iggy?” _ Cindy’s voice got quiet. _ “You… ya really liked him, huh?” _

Prompto jawed for a second, words surging at his teeth then ebbing back. Finally, he rasped out, “Yeah.”

Cindy was silent for a beat. _ “Don’t look up the news. Don’t you go lookin’ for the damn articles. Lie low a few days. Maybe… maybe don’t talk to him.” _

Prompto’s stomach twisted into knots. “No, no! There was an article?! Cindy!”

_ “We’ll talk with Aranea when you get back. Come straight back, you hear?!” _ Cindy hung up abruptly. Prompto’s heart was racing, and it was getting harder to breathe.

He immediately opened the search on his phone and typed in “ignis scientia lucid” and in an instant, news articles popped up. Entertainment news, gossip websites, social media were all lit up with Ignis’ name, and the Lucid website had posted a video. Prompto opened it and curled close around the screen, knees pulled in, neck craned down into it, as Ignis’ face popped up on the video screen.

_ “I wished to personally address the rumors circulating regarding my personal life.” _ Ignis was seated in an office room, his back to a desk with a closed laptop on it, a drafting table visible just to his left, everything white and gray but for Ignis’ purple shirt. Ignis looked pale and sobered, but composed and calm. _ “There have been allegations that I have been intimately involved with an individual engaged in the business of prostitution. I wish to unequivocally state that I have no personal connection or attachment to this individual.” _

Prompto dropped the phone. He could hear Ignis talking from the floor of the bus:

_ “I was photographed speaking with a young man who was interested in applying for employment with Lucid as a photographer. This individual and I had met for conversation regarding art in another situation. I was unaware of this individual’s present employment when we spoke, but his interest in the arts did catch my attention. Our communications were entirely professional, strictly business, and wholly devoid of inappropriate interactions.” _ Ignis paused, cleared his throat, exhaled, and continued: _ “While it is true that I offered this individual transportation to his place of residence after a conversation that ran inexcusably long, I was unaware of the nature of this individual’s residence. If the building in question is, in fact, a brothel, I was unaware of this fact at the time. I regret that I took actions, inadvertent though they may have been, that have made any of you doubt your confidence in my character. _

_ “I also wish to speak to the character of the individual in question: while I had no awareness of this individual’s connection to illicit activities, I ask that this young man not be condemned based on his current circumstances.” _ Prompto heaved and sucked air back into his lungs, but it wouldn’t stay. He could hardly even hear Ignis’ voice as he sighed again and concluded: _ “It is my intention to continue as Lucid’s jewelry designer. I hope my designs are enough to prove that, though I am human, my art can still be divine.” _ Prompto dared blink an eye open to see Ignis smiling wryly, tired, at the camera, in a way that didn’t touch his eyes. _ “Thank you for your continued trust.” _

The video went black. The bus came to a halt. Tears rolled down Prompto’s face, and he only barely heard them calling for his stop. He managed to grab up his phone, but he stumbled out and down the aisle to the street, ignoring the stares he got, the faint whispers around him. Were they talking about him? Had they seen the article? What other pictures were there of him? As he stumbled down to the ground, he got his phone out again and opened one of the articles from the search. His fingers shook every time he tapped the screen, and his vision blurred as he forcefully blinked back tears.

Sure enough, that was Iggy dropping him off at the hotel. Iggy’s fancy black car, him in his skinny jeans and old tee with his hair roughly styled after waking in Iggy’s bed. He recognized the cracked sidewalk, the corner of the sign. He couldn’t even bring himself to read the words as he scrolled down, until he came to the next picture.

That was him. Laid on silky red sheets, sweaty and naked, panting. There was a bucket of ice topped with a bottle of red wine just in the corner of the frame, and Prompto moaned. “That _ Creep _.” 

He’d tried so hard to keep Iggy from thinking about everything he had to do with anyone else. He never wanted any of his clients reminded that they weren’t the only ones who had his attention, Ignis more than any of them. Here was proof, and it had likely been thrown in Ignis’ face. 

No wonder he could look into a camera with a straight face and say what he’d said. He was probably in trouble for hiring Prompto at all, and now Lucid was in trouble because of it.

Prompto stood in the shadow of the brothel, staring down into the harsh light off of his cell phone screen, eyes burning. He knew what he had to do.

He took a deep breath, stood with his shoulders back, and dialed Ignis’ number. He crossed his fingers and held his breath for the voicemail. Someone up there must have liked him, because Ignis didn’t pick up. Prompto held his breath as the voicemail message played, and spoke: “Hey. It’s, um, Sil. I… wanted to apologize. I don’t know how they got the photos from the security camera. I honestly forgot it was there!” He let a laugh rattle out of him, but it died in a hiss. “And… the rest… I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to see that. God, I’m sorry that any of this ever happened.” He gripped at his face, palm hard against his eye socket to hold the tears back. “I’m sorry you ever had to be connected to… me. I honestly liked you, too, you were… you’ve got such a good… you’re just so good.” He choked back an ugly sob, shaking his head. “I must have made you so uncomfortable. I understand if you don’t want to see me anymore. Your job comes first! I’m sorry that I’ve gotten between you and your work. I’m… I’m so sorry about everything. Thank you for… everything… even if it was… even if it wasn’t…” The words died, and he hung up abruptly, then blocked Ignis’ number. 

He could never let himself think about talking to him ever again.

“Back to the grind, I guess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist #10 - "Snuff," Slipknot  
_Bury all your secrets in my skin_  
_Come away with innocence, and leave me with my sins_  
_I couldn't face a life without your light_  
_But all of that was ripped apart when you refused to fight_


	13. Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis receives Prompto's message. Noctis considers how to face this new calamity. Aranea sees the aftermath of the article, and of Ignis' message to Prompto.

**13\. Denial**

_ "Even if it was… even if it wasn't…" _Ignis listened again, pacing in front of his darkened office window as Prompto's voice broke off into a choked-off sob and the message ended abruptly, tugging at the hollows of his eyes and yanking his collar as he fought his emotions. The moon shining from the window burned his eyes. It had been painful enough watching all the comments come in on the video message he’d posted, mocking him, mocking Prompto, asking how much he cost, asking Ignis why he didn’t just date a model. Receiving his voicemail after turning his phone off for an hour of peace drove it home, and he hadn’t ceased pacing since. He turned and dialed Prompto's number yet again, but it rang once then played that dreaded message:

_ "The number you have dialed has been disconnected." _

"Hell!" He spun around again to Gladio and Noctis, teeth too sharp against his tongue. "He still won't pick up!"

"He didn't the last nine times, either." Noctis’ mouth worked, and he shook his head. “Specs…”

"Sounds like he changed his number, which, given it’s hardly been two hours since you posted your statement, isn’t likely." Gladio scowled. "Maybe the phone's off."

Ignis shook his head, grabbing at his hair. "No, no, no! I must speak with him." 

"He might need a little space if he's upset." Gladio stood up and swaggered towards Ignis. He raised his hand as he got closer, making to take Ignis by the shoulder. "Why don't you just put the phone down, take a deep breath, and—"

"No, I won't stand for it! I can't proceed knowing that _ this _ is what he thinks I think of him!" Ignis slapped Gladio’s hand back, then gripped at his forehead again, face red with either anger or anguish. "He has to understand. We had to save face! He should know the truth!"

"I think he does, Iggy." Gladio seized him by the collar, gravel in his voice and stone in his eyes. “If he doesn’t, then that’s his problem!”

“No! It’s because I failed to warn him adequately!”

“If he didn’t have trust in you to realize what you had to do,” Gladio growled, “then there’s nothing you can say now that’s gonna fix that.”

Ignis choked, stumbled back from Gladio, and sank down into his chair, finally deflating from his fury and moaning, “No, no, no… I should—I should go there and -”

“Get filmed visiting a whorehouse again!” Gladio snapped back.

“I have to do something, damn you!” Ignis clenched his fists, then released them and heaved a sigh. “What else am I supposed to do?” He shook his head, and Noctis groaned and put his face in his hands.

“Damn it all, they had to bring him into this.”

Gladio grunted in disgust. “Iggy’s the one who brought him into this!” He pushed Ignis in the chest, knocking him deeper into the chair and sending it scrolling a few inches back. “You were the one who thought it’d be a good idea to see a prostitute like you were dating him, like you couldn’t get ass any other way!” Gladio forced Ignis to look at him. “Get yourself together! You could have gone to jail if they had any solid proof of what you’d done! You still might if they do! Thank your lucky goddamn stars we’re just covering it up, that shit’s not getting any worse for you or Lucid!” He grabbed Ignis by the collar. “That kid isn’t worth losing your career for!”

“No, he’s worth more than that!” Ignis grabbed Gladio’s wrist and pinched the nerve under it to push him off, then sank back down. “You said it yourself, he’s a ray of sunshine! He lit up my life, and without him, the world feels so dark.” He motioned to his desk. “I was burning out! I’m hardly twenty-six, and I was out of ideas! Then, I met him, and the clouds that had stilled my hands and mind cleared. Perhaps I wanted less to be at this desk so I could see him more, but I had new energy." He threw his hands up in a hopeless shrug. "How can I work in the dark, with no sunlight?"

“So you just dismissed your muse.” Noctis pinched his brow, head thrown back in exhausted agony. Ignis trembled, then nodded.

“I’ve… I disavowed him, on the basis of what others think of him… of what he is.” He bit his lip, as his anger finally washed out and left sorrow like the dregs of bitter tea. “I’m no better than the wastes of carbon he called parents.”

Gladio stepped back, scowling, then broke and groaned. He put his hands on his hips to keep from balling them into fists again. “Igs. You need to cool off. He needs to cool off. Come with me, get a drink, let’s sit on this overnight.” He hauled Ignis up again, this time by the wrist, and Ignis stumbled to his feet. Gladio looked to Noct. “Talk to Cor. Find out what he’s found out.” 

“Yeah.” Noctis dragged himself out of the chair as Gladio dragged a dejected Ignis out the door, hardly letting Ignis grab his jacket. He was feeling drained by the whole mess, but he had to take charge here. 

Cor was in his office, just putting down his phone, when Noctis walked in. “Good timing. I’ve done some digging.” Cor didn’t look away from his computer, and thrust a sheath of documents at Noctis. “Tracked down the publishing company that pushed the story first. Legal’s already going about threatening every paper or publication that bought it and ran it with libel accusations, but that’s their problem, not ours. I suppose it’ll be yours at some point, but that’s neither here nor there.” Noctis took the papers Cor offered him. “Read those when you have a chance.”

Noctis felt a little sick as he looked at the pile. He wondered how long he could put it off. “Any way you can give me the short version on what you found out on that first publisher?”

“I can.” Cor remained impassive. “The same thing we found when we investigated the car, and, to my understanding, what you were finding out about the building the prostitute lives in.” Noctis bit back a swear, as Cor raised an eyebrow. “Clarus had me review Ignis’ computer search history. What were the two of you trying to pull?”

“We were trying to find out who owned Prompto.” Noctis closed his hands into fists. “He’s basically a slave to a bullshit contract. Turns out, it’s the same people who own the building holding his leash.”

“Prompto? So it is that kid you were with during the gala.” Cor rubbed his lower lip and chin. “He… didn’t seem like what one would expect of… That doesn’t matter.” He shook it off and stood like a soldier, looking directly into Noctis’ face. “What matters is, there’s a definite connection. Whoever… _ owns _ that young man, whoever owns the building, whoever owns the car, and whoever owns this publishing company are all playing the exact same shell game.” Cor tugged on one page within the stack. “Thing is, here’s where they slipped.”

Cor showed Noctis the page. “Right here. When Ignis was investigating Prompto’s contract holder, he found this shell. Ardent Investments. You dig deep enough on the publishing company, it actually leads to the same place. I went lateral on the car, too, and it led to that company.”

Noctis gazed at the page, heart rising into his throat. “Either he slipped or got lazy.”

“He?” Cor raised an eyebrow, a demand for explanation plain in his harsh expression. 

“Isn’t this what Ardyn Izunia’s stock buys look like?”

Cor frowned, then rubbed his chin again. “Now I look at it that way, you’re right. Is that why Ignis grilled me on him earlier?”

“You’ve got it.”

Cor actually scoffed. “You need to be more direct when you’re investigating something. If your forces are more aware of each other, it makes cooperation easier.”

Noctis evaded Cor’s glare, instead glaring down into the pages like he was trying to activate laser vision and erode the reality. “And if my _ forces _ didn't see me as a child, perhaps I would be more cooperative.”

“Watch your mouth.” Cor narrowed his eyes. “You’re not wrong, but listen to me: the moment you took that ring from your father, as far as I’m concerned, you had one foot in your father’s place.” Noctis winced and fidgeted with the ring where it sat on his finger, and Cor scoffed. “I will never see you as a _ child _ so long as you stand at the top of this building. Clarus might still treat you like the boy you were when you were lazing around your father’s reception area, but I won’t.” He drew himself tall, but Noctis glared balefully at him.

“Then you could have come to me about Izunia yourself.” 

“If I had thought he was relevant to the immediate situation, I would have!” Cor didn’t back down, shoulders back and his jaw tight. “What you need to ask yourself is, what are we going to do about it?!”

“Let me think.” Noct groaned and held his head for a moment, turning from Cor and grinding his teeth. _ What would Dad do? _

Noct wished he knew. Regis was warm, social, a diplomat. Moody sometimes, but generally genial and ameliorating. He was good at organizing partnerships and coordinating projects. Noct knew he was dismal with people, he wasn’t used to having to talk with people he didn’t like. Ignis had tried to teach hm etiquette, poise, or at least how to appear neutral in uncomfortable situations, but Noctis never felt quite prepared to handle anything. The most luck he’d had with that was Prompto. Prompto could talk to people when he couldn't.

Prompto.

"Maybe we need to look closer at the prostitution ring." Noctis crossed his arms. "The fact that the newspaper stinks of Izunia and the building Prompto lives in tells me that if Izunia is linked to one, he's linked to both. Plus, those pictures of Prompto and from the building, how would Izunia have gotten them unless he had a connection to it? All we need is solid proof of their connection."

"And what do you plan to do about that?" Cor crossed his arms.

"Investigate and counter." Noctis snapped his fingers. "We need to fight back. If they want to take this feud public, we'll fight with their weapons and win. I'm going to make a few calls." 

"Are you?"

"Yeah." Noctis grinned. "Dino at the Citadel Sun, for one. I gave him an exclusive interview at the gala. He owes me a favor, and if this pans out, it'll be a huge scoop. I'll pass on what we have and start putting an expose together.”

"Ah. Fight slander with truth." Cor nodded, but his expression tightened again. "Ignis."

"What about him?"

Cor's mouth twitched as he hesitated, but he carefully asked, "How is he?"

Noctis shook his head. "Prompto called him, left a message apologizing for all the trouble. Made it sound like he never expected to hear from him again. Ignis is a wreck."

"So, what he said about 'no connection.' That was a lie."

Noctis strangled a frustrated groan down to a discomforted grunt. "Ignis doesn't see Prompto as a prostitute. Their connection has nothing to do with his status as a sex worker." Noctis couldn't stop his mouth from working into a sulk. "Gladio took him out to drown his sorrows."

"I'll talk to him tomorrow. Not all is lost." Cor turned his gaze back to his screen. "I'll find what I can. I suggest you get in touch with them and warn them not to get into any more trouble. The paparazzi will likely have followed him, given the scandal, so he'll be under a microscope."

"Noted." Noct sighed and sent Gladio a text as he walked out. Cor was right: the last thing he needed was more trouble. He might not have a solution for the next one.

However, he was convinced he might have a fix for the problem at hand.

* * *

Aranea was waiting for Prompto in the lobby as he dragged himself in from his third client for the night. She glared at him from the security desk. Biggs ducked down as she turned and walked beside him as he limped to the elevator. "Aurum said you were coming back," she growled. 

"Had another call." Prompto sounded much better than he felt. (He sounded like someone had taken sandpaper to his throat.) "Need the money anyway, y'know? My numbers've been low. I'll never pay it all back at this rate…" He went to jab the button—his leg hurt too much for the stairs, _ he didn't even know it bent that far back _—but Aranea caught his wrist and yanked him to face her. 

"You let this one get rough with you. That's not your thing. You're supposed to report to me if the people who hire you misuse you!" 

Prompto stared through her, shrugging. He'd give her their name if he'd bothered to remember it. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize now, idiot." Aranea clicked her tongue. "Cindy came shrieking out of a session with some weirdo when she saw that article. We need to talk about it."

"What's to be said?" Prompto's tongue felt numb. 

"That was the nice guy, wasn't it? The one you said was helping you with the job!" 

Prompto tried hard not to let that register, tried to detach himself, like he was just a soul occupying this body and watching his own life like a video game. "Oh." He managed to shrug, or maybe it was a shiver. "Yeah. Guess that's probably not happening." He lowered his eyes as Aranea went from angry to livid. "Sorry if I got your hopes up."

"'Got my—' you idiot, this is your life!" She grabbed both sides of his face. "Did you even talk to him?! Tell him what you really wanted from him?! Listen to what he said to you, instead of what he had to say to the rest of the world?!" 

Prompto's ears rang, and he struggled with his words for a few seconds before finally choking out, "You… You heard him. It was just business.” Aranea let go of him and marched a few steps away in disgust. Disgusted with him. He was disgusting. Nothing new. "It's fine, it's gonna be okay. I just… I was stupid." His face fell. "I'm really, really stupid." 

Aranea whipped around on him again, but his phone alerted. Prompto looked to his text and saw an unfamiliar number. _ "Can u meet me at Golden Key? ASAP" _

A weak chuckle broke out of him. "Golden Key. Must be loaded. I should take this. I'll do my best to be back by curfew." He texted an affirmative with a smiley face as he walked away from her, and there was a fast reply:

_ "Text me ur nearest intersection. Will send a Shoopuff." _

Offering to send a car? Maybe Prompto would get a nice tip.

Aranea watched in livid horror as Prompto shuffled out to take a _ fourth _ client for the night. After getting publicly excoriated, at that. She knew that faraway, blank look, the hollow eyes, and that was a sure sign a girl was looking down a bad path. That was the look of lost hope.

Aranea didn't like to admit it, even to herself, that she had favorites. Prompto was a sunny ball of fluff and cotton candy, and watching him dissolve into the murk that sucked up too many cornered, desperate men and women and spat back fetid, bruised corpses made her so enraged she felt sick.

"Ah, Miss Highwind!" And here came her least favorite person to make it worse! Aranea pivoted around to see Ardyn Izunia strolling towards her, and hoped that if she actually was about to puke, she would do it on his ugly shoes. "I had hoped to ask for some supplies upstairs." Then, she saw his eyes slide over to Prompto as he shuffled out the door. "Ah! Why, I thought I knew that young man from somewhere!"

"Oh yeah?" Maybe she shouldn't have been putting so much teeth in her words, but Ardyn didn't flinch. "Is it because you demanded him over Sydney last week and sent him back a wreck?"

"Oh, no, goodness, no; before that. He's the arm candy for that wealthy designer, the one from the news, isn't he?" Ardyn's eyes fluttered, feverish and too excited. "I thought I saw them together. Or was I wrong?" Aranea bit back a nasty word, as he snapped his fingers. "Did you see? That boy's face was all over the article." He got his phone out, and Aranea crossed her arms and turned from him. She had seen the article. She'd seen more than enough of that article.

"The second I find out which of those shitstains leaked our security footage to the press, I'm busting out the bleach and rubbing him out."

She heard Biggs choke on a laugh from where he was still ducked behind the desk, just as Ardyn clicked his tongue. "Here he is, Ignis Scientia. Seems like the paparazzi trailed him to Voûte de Reyes, a bar on Lestallum Boulevard. My, my, he's really not handling this well." Ardyn clicked his tongue. "Seems like nothing interesting is happening yet, sadly; a man's allowed a drink…"

One minute the man is stepping on Prompto's heart, the next he's off drinking. Aranea ground her teeth together at the thought, but her grit turned into a grin as she realized Ardyn had given her a gift. 

The bastard's location.

"That may be so." Aranea smoothed her hair back as she pivoted for the door. “But he's not allowed to play around with one of my girls.” She paused at the door for a second. "Biggs, you and Wedge are in charge. Get him what he came for and text me if anything happens."

"Oh, were you going somewhere, Miss Highwind?" Ardyn was grinning with mad delight, but Biggs was looking up too, eyebrow raised.

"Miss A?"

"I got a freelance job." Aranea smirked at Biggs from the door as if Ardyn weren’t there. "Seems a fella was mistreating one of my girls, so I'm gonna go give him an informal warning." She turned and departed, blood boiling as she dug out her car keys. 

Aranea hadn't been a hired muscle for a long time. The 'house madam' gig was way safer, and she did better at keeping prostitutes out of the heroin and the harbor here than in her old life. However, she could put on an old hat for the night and do one more job.

For Prompto, it was on the house.


	14. Taken for a Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto meets up with his mystery caller, and ends up going further than he thought he would for a man who isn't paying him.

**14\. Taken For a Ride**

Prompto got a few cross-streets away from the brothel and texted the intersection to the mystery number. However, less than a second after he hit send, his phone began to ring from the same number. He frowned curiously, but answered, forcing a smile to put cheer in his voice: “Hey, babe, it’s me. Did you need something?”

_ “Prompto? It’s you, right, Prompto?” _

Prompto’s heart jumped into his throat: “Noctis?!” He quickly ducked down against the nearest wall of the closest building like he was trying to stealth in a video game. “Holy shit, how did you get my-”

_ “Ignis dialed it like ten times earlier, I memorized the touch-tones.” _

Someone behind Noctis laughed. Prompto felt fire in his cheeks. “Noct, look, _ that's badass, _but you need to lose my number! I’m nothing but trouble!”

_ “You’re not. None of this is your fault. I’m just trying to cut to the heart of the problem. Listen to me, Prompto. You’re not at your house, are you?” _

“N… no.” Prompto bit his lip. “Did… you…”

_ “I’m gonna fill you in. That article? I have reason to believe it was orchestrated by one of our competitors, this guy named Ardyn Izunia.” _ Noct paused, as Prompto frowned. Did he know that name? _ “We’ve got reason to suspect he arranged for my dad’s accident, too. The owner of the car owns your building. We just can’t pin an actual name on it.” _

“What?” Prompto’s eyes went wide. “So—the pictures…”

_ “That was from your building’s security camera, right? Someone on the inside must have leaked those. Those people you’re working for, whoever they are, are obviously working with whoever wants to ruin Lucid.” _

Prompto took a breath, looked over both shoulders, and closed his eyes tight. “Ardyn… Izunia, you said?”

_ “Yeah?” _

“I think that’s The Creep’s name.” Cindy had called him "Ardy." The Creep had answered his phone “Izunia.” “Older guy, right? Maybe he’s a photographer?”

_ “Yeah?” _Noctis sounded excited, but like he was trying not to get too excited.

“There’s this guy. He, uh, he’s a regular. I heard someone call him Izunia. He’s usually with my roommate. He, uh, likes blondes.” Prompto held his breath for a terse second. "A lot." 

_ "Oh. Oh, dude. So you had to—" _

"Had to. Okay. Good. You get that." Prompto exhaled all at once. "Yeah. Um. You know the photo in the article that's definitely me after, uh, work? I recognize that bed. It was taken after your dad's accident. The Creep requested me."

Noctis swore quietly off of the receiver then sighed as he came back in. _ "That... sounds about right. We think he wanted to cause a scandal to crash our stock prices so he could buy it. Remember what Ravus said at the party?" _

"Ravus… oh, him." Prompto furrowed his brow. "He did say… oh, man."

_ "Yeah." _ Noctis sighed. _ "Trying to kill my dad, this with Iggy… it's a mess. But here's the thing. You said you think Izunia is connected?" _

"If he's the guy I think you're talking about, then yeah. Do you know what he looks like?"

_ “No—hey, Dino. You ever interview Izunia?” _

Prompto heard another voice, the same drawling tone that had been laughing earlier, answer: _ “Nah, the guy’s a recluse. Got a snap of him from the Cartanica summer fete a few weeks back, hang on, lemme text Vyv.” _

Noctis came back on the line: _ “Prompto, you remember Dino?” _

“Kind of.” Prompto furrowed his brow and scrunched his face up. “From the party?”

_ “That’s right. You and me talked to him. He’s a reporter, and we’re trying to put together an expose based on what you know, what he knows, and what Lucid’s found out. Me, Iggy, Cor—” _

Prompto felt the words dig into his chest. “Iggy?”

_ “Hey, kid," _Dino’s drawl interrupted. _ “I got a snap of Izunia. Can I text it to ya?” _

“Sure.” Prompto watched his phone screen for a moment, looking over his shoulder every second or so, but sure enough, the Creep’s face in profile at a distance appeared in his view. “That’s the Creep. Ardyn Izunia, you said?”

_ “The Creep, huh?” _Noct laughed softly. 

_ “Senior photographer and board member for Aldercapt. Real piece o’ work.” _ Dino clicked his tongue. _ “So, you know him?” _

“Way better than I’d like,” Prompto muttered. “Okay, so—”

Noctis spoke again:_ “We’ve linked the companies that own your brothel, the car that hit my dad’s, and the newspaper that published the story on Iggy, and you’ve personally said that the photograph of you in the article was taken when you were, uh, with him.” _

Prompto grimaced. “Without permission! He did not have my permission to take those or give them out!”

_ “Fuck.” _ Noctis sounded sick. _ “I’m sorry that happened to you.” _

Prompto had no idea how good it would feel to hear those words. He loved Ignis, but by whatever God spat him onto this earth, he’d go to hell and back for Noctis now. “What is it you need from me?”

_ “Anything you’ve got from Izunia that might prove a connection to any of his holdings. We need to see what demons are hiding under his jacket.” _

“He always carries a bag. Whenever I see him, he’s got this suitcase. He had his sex stuff in there, but he also had some papers.” Prompto bit his lip as he got back up to his feet. “I… I’m gonna steal it.”

_ “Prompto?” _

“Send that Shoopuff to this intersection.” Prompto strode back towards the brothel. “I’ll get the suitcase from him, and I’ll bring it right to you.”

_ “Prompto,” _ Noctis said, filled with awe. _ “You’d do that?” _

“I heard him in the lobby when I was leaving, talking to the madam. He’s probably with Cin- Sydney, my roommate. She’s his favorite.” Prompto swallowed, jogging a step faster. “I’m gonna go in while they’re distracted, grab it, and pass it off. Just send the car, okay?”

_ “It’ll be waiting for you.” _ He hung up, and Prompto sent a text to Cindy:

_ “Yo gurl keep the creep busy. He took smthn from me, gonna get it back” _

Prompto slipped up the hotel’s fire escape to the floor where he remembered being with Ardyn before. He felt a buzz in his pocket and checked, only to see a thumbs-up from Cindy, quickly followed up with a _ “I’ll get loud for him til he gags me” _and Prompto just grimaced and crept down the hall towards the room he and Ardyn had used. Sure enough, he heard the two of them talking, Cindy’s usual drawl, Ardyn’s taunting reply, and he held his breath at the door. His body trembled just a little, as he heard the faint creak of weight on the mattress, and then, the rhythmic creaks of sex. Cindy was squeaking and moaning, and Prompto carefully pushed the door open to sidle in. Sure enough, Ardyn had Cindy pinned down on the bed, already blindfolded, her usual plaits loose and wavy across her fair shoulders, preoccupied as she begged him, “give it to me, give it to me!” Prompto grimaced as he saw Ardyn reaching for the ball gag without slowing down, but there was the suitcase at the foot of the bed.

Without a second thought, Prompto grabbed the suitcase and ran. He didn’t bother shutting the door—let Ardyn think whatever he wanted!—and ran back to the fire escape, out the window and down the stairs.

He couldn’t believe he’d done that. “Not just a whore, but a regular thief, huh?” He laughed humorlessly to himself as his feet pounded the fire escape all the way down, the rubber of his soles slapping the sidewalk when he hit the pavement, too loud in his ears. 

Prompto jogged back to the intersection where he’d called Noctis, every step making the earth shake under him, and saw a black sedan idling at the curb. He slowed from a run to a saunter, catching his breath and trying to look casual, but just as he went to circle to the passenger side, the driver’s side door opened and Noctis jumped out. 

“You’re alright!” Noctis rushed up to him and grabbed him by the shoulders, but Prompto resisted the urge to fall against Noctis and into what he hoped might be a hug. Instead, Noctis just looked up into his eyes in obvious relief. “You had me worried!”

“Have no fear, Prompto is here!” Prompto then held up the briefcase. “And with presents.”

“Shit.” Noctis’ jaw hung slack. “You actually did it.”

“Yeah, I told you I would! I might be, y’know, what I am, but I keep my promises!” Prompto set the suitcase down and went to open it. “Let’s see just what the Creep-”

“Wait.” Noctis stayed his hand with a touch to the wrist. “Not here. Come with me, I left Dino at the hotel. We rented a conference room and we’re gonna sort through all of this together, but I want you to come with me.”

“You got it! I’ll help you look for anything in there that might fix this mess!” Prompto was about to hop in the side door, but Noctis caught him by the arm.

“No, not that. You’ve done enough. I mean, I want you to come stay with me and never go back to that building again.” Noctis sighed. “You’re a good guy who’s gone through too much. I’ve got a spare room in my apartment and it’s got your name all over it. You never have to sleep with someone you don’t want to be with again, you can stay as long as it takes to get on your feet, I don’t care. Just, don’t go back to that, okay?” Prompto froze up, but he could feel Noctis subtly pulling on his arm.

“Noct— I’m—” He swallowed, cringing. “I’ll get you in trouble. Like I got Iggy in trouble. And— if I’m with you, then I might—”

“Prompto, Ignis doesn’t blame you!” Noctis yanked his arm. “Listen to any one of the messages he left you, he’ll tell you in his own words!” 

“Messages?” Prompto’s eyes went wide, and his stomach sank. “He…”

“I told you, he dialed your number manually at least ten times. He dialed your contact at first, but when your voicemail was full and your number was dead, he thought his phone was glitching.”

Prompto winced. “Iggy…” His stomach swirled with a mix of sour and bittersweet sentiment, his mind tumbled through a kaleidoscope of memories. Ignis, warm and content looking at his photographs, amused and smug across the dinner table, in awe of him in the bedroom, and then so sad, so tired, so distraught in the video. “I…”

“Listen.” Noctis slid his grip to Prompto’s hand. “You don’t have to make up with Iggy if you’re not ready to, if you don’t want to, if you _ never _ want to. That's not what this is about. You never have to talk to him ever again.” He faced Prompto straight on, putting on an authoritative voice. “Someone should have helped you way before now. You’re too nice to have to put up with what you’ve been through.”

“But my contr—”

“You’re under a contract, right? Iggy told us.” Noctis shook his head. “You got a copy of that? I’ve got lawyers. I’ll bet anything that contract is as illegal as arson, and anyway, you tell them they’re making you sleep with people and whoever’s responsible gets shipped off to prison. If they try to send you to prison, again, _ I’ve got lawyers. _ ” He put on a winning grin. “Come on, man. The only reason Iggy didn’t go this far on his own was because he didn’t want to _ impose _ on you. Me, I’m imposing. Come to my place and you and me will sort all this out, and no matter what, you’ve got a place to go. My girlfriend’s not in town enough to mind if I have a roommate.”

Prompto was trembling, so overwhelmed by the kindness before him that he didn’t know what to do with it. “I… she won’t mind if you… if I’m…”

“Gay? Bi? I don’t care.”

“A whore.” Prompto bit his lip. Noctis lightly slapped his cheek.

“Stop that, you’re not! You’re so much more than that.” Noctis sighed, fingers trailing down Prompto’s jaw. “You didn’t listen to a single one of Ignis’ messages, did you?”

Prompto bit his lip. “I… blocked his number. So he wouldn’t get in more trouble.”

Noctis groaned, falling back against the car with a little too much drama. “Prompto, come on. Iggy’s basically giving himself a black eye, but that’s not even your problem anymore. Come with me. Don’t go back and sell your body. Lemme quote Iggy directly: _ There is no price that could possibly match your worth. _” Noctis crossed his arms, looking straight at Prompto through the fall of his hair. “Now, do I have to drag you?”

Prompto shivered, wondering just what those messages said, if he could even receive them. As wrong as he knew it was, he did want to hear Ignis’ voice again. “I… I’ll do it. But.” Prompto bit his lip. “I… I want to go back to get my camera.”

“Your camera,” Noctis repeated, as if Prompto were stupid. “I will _ buy _ you a new camera, Prompto.”

Prompto hung his head. “You can’t buy the pictures on my memory card.” He could still imagine Ignis’ smile in those images, and he deeply, desperately wanted to see them again. 

Noctis swore and hit the side of the car, then sighed. “Okay. You win. Go get your camera.”

“And you go back and start reading these!” Prompto took the suitcase off of the trunk of the car and pushed it to Noctis’ chest. Noctis caught it, frowning.

“No way! I’ll wait right here for you.”

“It’s to help Iggy, right?” Desperation slid into Prompto’s tones in a keening whine, and he was already turning. “Please go help Iggy, go save Lucid! I can get to the Golden Key on my own, but don’t keep that Dino guy waiting, okay?”

Noctis pursed his lips, but Prompto spun on his heel and took off running. He called after him: “You come right over as soon as you have it, okay?!” He hesitated to get back into his car, but Prompto was halfway gone. Noctis had to stifle a groan, but he closed his fist tight and felt the ring bite into the flesh of his palm. Prompto was right - he should go back to Dino and start going through Izunia’s suitcase, but he’d wanted to save Prompto and Lucid in the same fell swoop. Prompto was already out of earshot, though and Noctis looked around the darkened windows and the empty street, feeling a chill in the shadow of this lonely stretch of road, then got back in his car.

“I’ll be waiting for you, Prompto.” He was already regretting turning the key, but he had to.

Prompto, meanwhile, slipped around the back side of the brothel, heart still pounding. Biggs wasn't at the counter, but Prompto knew the security cameras were watching him. He tried to stay his fear that Ulldor would see the footage of him coming back in and bolting with his stuff, because Noctis was in his corner. Ignis, too, maybe. Prompto wanted to believe that if he dared to listen to the messages Ignis had left, he'd hear proof that he wasn't just yesterday's trash. 

His room was still empty and dark, and he threw the lamp on and grabbed his camera bag and a knapsack, then threw an indiscriminate fistful of clothes into the sack. He and Noctis were about the same size, he reasoned, he'd borrow what he didn't have until he could get it. As he jammed a few pairs of boxers and socks in, it hit him: he was leaving this place for the last time. Cindy and Aranea, yes, but also Ulldor and Tummelt, and the other girls who stared down their noses at him and the clients and the Creep. He would be free. 

Indebted to Noctis forever maybe, but he could deal with that. Noctis wouldn't abuse that debt, and Prompto swore he'd honor it. He'd be as loyal to Noctis as Iggy was in gratitude. He'd walk through fire or the grave for the guy if he had to.

He looped his knapsack shut and whirled for the door, and there stood The Creep. Ardyn Izunia stood silently, staring through him with that same smug smirk he always wore. Prompto startled and dropped his bag, then scooped it up and put on a chiding voice: "Hey, Mister, you're not allowed back here! This is a private area."

"Is that so?" Ardyn sounded tense through his smile, and Prompto could swear the guy was doing everything in his power not to lunge forward and rip his throat out. "I believe you were in a private area earlier. Don't be coy with me: you took something of mine."

“No, I have no idea what you're talking about.” Prompto turned his head, trying to will his expression neutral and sucking his lower lip in. Sure enough, Ardyn merely laughed.

“Oh, you’re a pretty liar, aren’t you?” He strode towards Prompto, still brooking no escape and looming only larger. “Where did you put it? Ran off and gave it to that sugar daddy of yours?”

"I might be a whore, but I wouldn’t do that." Prompto folded his arms around hid bag to keep them from shaking, and debated if he could blitz around Ardyn and get into the hall at this angle. Ardyn, however, sauntered closer and closer.

"What you are is a terrible liar. Tell you what—Let's do a trade. I'll even accept collateral of less value in exchange for my bag." 

Prompto grimaced and hoped it looked like a grin, and held his ground. "I don't have anything you want."

"You don't, no." Ardyn swung an arm forward out of his jacket, and there was a cold ring pressed against the underside of Prompto's chin. That was a gun. Ardyn had pulled a gun on him, and the air around Prompto froze as Ardyn smirked at him. "Why don't you come with me, and we'll see if you're worth more than the contents of my bag?"

The barrel of the gun pressed into Prompto's neck, and he bit back a whimper. Images like snapshots ran across his memory, his parents, hundreds of faceless clients, Aranea, Noctis, Ignis, and he decided on the answer to that question. 

_ Probably not. _

Everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tracklist #11 - "bad guy," Billie Eilish  
_Bruises, on both my knees for you_  
_Don't say thank you or please_  
_I do what I want when I'm wanting to_  
_My soul? So cynical_


	15. At The King's Vault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At a bar in downtown Lestallum, Gladio tries to pick up Ignis and put him back together. However, someone else would prefer him in pieces...

**15\. At The King’s Vault**

Ignis had hardly spoken five words since he’d gotten onto the barstool. Gladio could even count them: “Jameson and Ginger,” then about ten minutes later, “another, please.” 

Gladio had taken Ignis out to talk his feelings out, but he felt like he was the only one making any effort to actually speak. Ignis was somber, a black space under the neon blue and purple lights of one of Gladio’s favorite evening haunts. This was where he liked to go for an evening of relaxation, a few overpriced drinks, a pretty woman to serve them to him, and maybe a few nice girls to chat up before heading home. If he was alone, he’d sit at the bar, where the music was loud and he got served fastest. With Ignis, though, he requested a private booth. The corner was the quietest area, but there would still be enough noise to cover any conversation they had from some guys Gladio was sure were paparazzi. 

“Igs,” he tried again softly, trying to be gentle. As much as it pained him to admit it, shaking sense into Ignis wouldn’t actually help. It wasn’t like he was a dumb kid making bad choices, it was a man who Gladio knew to be intelligent and dependable lamenting the _ good _ choice he’d had to make. “Look, buddy, I know it sucks that you had to hurt the kid…” 

He watched for a reaction at that—Ignis tended to object strongly to anyone talking down the object of his affection, he’d found, and he was reaching for any way to provoke an answer out of Ignis. In the dim light, the most Gladio could make out was a faint twitch of his brow. 

“But come on. You had to do it. Like, actually had to. You might care about him, but Lucid’s your life.” Gladio saw Ignis’ mouth twitch at that, but he muted the expression with a long drag on his drink. “It’s a tough balance. I get it. There’s a reason I didn’t date back when I was in the service.” He shook his head, grimacing. “Noct and Luna have it rough, too, y’know. Noct’s kind of chained to the city by the company, but Luna wants to travel the world right now, helping as many people as she can, but they made arrangements and they’re making it work.” 

Ignis shifted uncomfortably, face subtly working between upset and nausea, and Gladio took another slug of his beer. 

“So maybe you can’t openly be with Prompto right now because he’s kinda living on the edge of what’s legal and what isn’t. And maybe you had to make the distance for the same reason.”

“I never wanted distance.” Gladio’s spirit sparked—Ignis was talking! He was dour, exhausted, and miserable, but he was talking. Ignis stared down into the bottom of his glass. “I never thought I wanted anything like him, until I met him. I never realized how much I hungered for affection until I had his.” 

“Yeah?” Gladio prodded. “And?”

“And then I starved for want of it.” Ignis’ chin sunk to his chest, and he gestured weakly, meaninglessly, as he struggled with words. “I knew— I know— I knew that his kindness might have come from a place of duty rather than his genuine feelings, except… so often, his heart seemed so bright that it couldn’t possibly have been illusion. He’s so bright, Gladio, that I never realized how dull my world was until he was part of it! And yet…” He swallowed. “I... did... hesitate. I thought caution greater than courage in this instance, because I wanted to be sure of his feelings, and of my own. Because… he is what he is.” 

“Yeah.” Gladio nodded. “He sure is. And you know he’s had to be with others, it was his job. He probably has had to be just as sweet as he was to you for plenty of other guys.”

“But it felt different!” Ignis groaned and pushed his half-finished drink away, then slumped onto the table chest-first. “Even the rare occasions when I did accept romantic overtures from others, they were more interested in my job than in the rest of who I am! Prompto was starstruck, but it was never about what I did!”

“It’s ‘cause you’re a catch, Igs. It’s a shame he’s the first person who saw that.” Gladio patted his back, but Ignis shoved him off. 

“It’s not! What’s truly shameful is that I found him in such a position that he must share his affections with those for whom he doesn’t truly wish to do so!”

“Right,” Gladio said cautiously, drawing back. “Because he was paid to be like that.”

“And that’s precisely... why… I wanted to know him when I wasn’t paying him, or when I didn’t think I was.” Ignis swallowed again, then made himself suck in air. “Because he didn’t charge me! The moment he said he didn’t consider me ‘work,’ I knew—”

“And why didn’t you just tell him how you felt then?” Gladio grabbed the back of Ignis’ jacket and lifted him up. Ignis’ eyes were red and prickling at the edges, but Gladio forced himself to remain stonefaced. “Why didn’t you tell him, ‘I wanna be with you, but we can’t be open about it ‘til you’re out of the business?’”

“I can’t imagine any world in which I would wish to hear the words, ‘I love you, but,’ no matter how that sentence ended.” Ignis bit down on his own anger, jaw clenched. “I would tell him precisely how I feel, exactly what we must do, but he won’t talk to me!”

Gladio grimaced, then sighed and let go of Ignis’ jacket. “Look, give it a few days, then you can go to his place on the sly and—”

“A few _ hours _ of him thinking I feel nothing for him is weeks too long.” Ignis pinched his brow. “I can’t ask forgiveness for rejecting him. It’s not fair to him, he’s likely been wounded a thousand times over. How many… _ clients… _ have used him, called him beautiful, then discarded him?” 

Gladio groaned and patted his back. “You had to protect yourself—”

“Because you’re a _ coward_.”

Gladio startled as Ignis cringed, and looked up to see a tall woman in a tank top and cropped pants, with long, platinum hair that descended to ringlets all bound up in a ponytail and a cross, sour expression, standing over them with her arms crossed. Gladio jumped right up to his feet and got chest to chest with her. “And who the hell are you to make that call?”

“Someone who knows.” She bared her teeth in an unkind smile and matched Gladio, putting her face way too close to his. “Someone who’s seen girls get led on by pretty rich men, and watched them get torn down, over and over and over, just like your skinny friend did to Prompto.”

Ignis’ eyes went wide, and he adjusted his glasses. “I’m sorry, who are you? And who are you to him?”

“Name’s Aranea Highwind. Remember it, you’re gonna wanna give it to the cops later.” She smirked, devil-red lips forming a wicked crescent like blood on the edge of a scythe. “As for who I am to Prompto? Someone who can’t stand watching him get hurt by bastards like you.”

“Hey!” Gladio shoved Aranea back. She didn’t budge, not even when Gladio loomed over her and put himself in her face. “You don’t know him, you don’t know me, you sure as hell don’t know what’s going on—”

“What’s to know? You’re just another asshole who called in a whore, used them up until it wasn’t convenient for you, then dumped ‘em.” She set her hands on her hips, sticking her chest out and glaring past Gladio at Ignis. “You think that just because they fuck for hire, they don’t have feelings? Newsflash—calling someone a hooker doesn’t mean they’re not human.”

Ignis winced, and Gladio put himself directly between them. “You think he doesn’t know that?! You have no idea of the situation, and we don’t know who the hell you are or why you think you have the right, but—”

Aranea shoved Gladio, and he stumbled back a step. “I wasn’t talking to you!” She whipped around on Ignis again. “Are you planning on defending yourself, or are you just going to sit there like a doe-eyed dope and say nothing?! Do you even know where Prompto is right now?!” She slammed a hand on the table and growled: “Throwing himself away on men who don’t care about him, letting them hurt him, because he doesn’t care. Because he thinks he doesn’t matter after what you said. He had hope, you idiot! You stole that from him!”

Ignis’ shoulders slumped, and he put his head in his hands. “I never—”

“Shut up!” Gladio pushed in again and put himself between Ignis and Aranea, and she shoved him again.

“Back off, meatshield!”

“How about you back off?!” Gladio shoved Aranea back, and she actually stumbled. Gladio heard gasps from nearby, and a battery of flashing cameras went off behind them. Aranea didn’t seem to notice or care, instead swaggering back forward with a pinpoint focus on Gladio, and her mouth spread into a wicked grin again. 

“You want to go, big boy?” She squared up. “Let’s do this.”

Without a second's hesitation more, Aranea swung at Gladio with a fist. He ducked, but she was ready with a knee right into his chin, and he toppled. Ignis cried out, “Gladiolus, stop!” but Gladio was too busy rolling off the floor and charging at Aranea with his arms out. 

“You rotten bitch, you have no idea what you’re even talking about!” He tried to seize her, but she jumped from the floor to land on his shoulder, and from there back onto the table Ignis was standing beside. Gladio swung and caught her behind the knee, knocking her down. Ignis had to dodge her, but she rolled off the table and under Gladio’s reach, landing in the aisle by crashing into one of the high-tops and toppling the table and the glasses on it. 

A calamitous crashing of shattering glass rose up through the bar. Patrons at other tables had finally taken notice of the fight and made to get out of the way, some bolting for the door, and some getting behind the paparazzi filming the fight. 

Gladio didn’t even notice the building chaos, and pivoted as the woman landed on the floor and squared up, but she had already gotten steady, bruised and her makeup smudged but still standing, and launched a high kick right into his chin. He stumbled back, rubbing his face and gritting his teeth, and flew at her with another punch. Ignis jumped over the broken glass and tried to pull him back. 

“You don’t have to do this, come on! We need to leave, now!”

“Oh, what’s that, pansy?” Aranea blew a kiss at him, sing-song and nasty. “You can’t take the heat and you don’t think your buddy can either, is that it?”

Ignis scowled and opened his mouth, but Gladio pushed him back. “Stay out of this, Iggy! You’re a good guy who doesn’t have time for trash like her!”

“Trash, am I?” Aranea swiped her smeared lipstick off. “Let’s see just who takes who out.” She swung at Gladio again, but he knocked her hand away and struck her square in the chest, knocking the wind out of her.

“You picked a fight with the wrong guy if you were looking to get taken out!” Gladio seized her by the face and tried to march her out, but she whipped her head around to loosen his grip and bit his finger hard until he jerked his hand back with a pained grunt, releasing her. 

“Please, I got better taste than that!” 

He jerked back, but she spat in his face before he could recover. He tried to grab her hair, but she seized his wrist and flipped him over her shoulder into the bar. The bartender fled his post as Gladio rolled into it and into a shelf, knocking the wine glasses and bottles loose. Ignis could only watch in horror as the bottles nearest the edge of the bar rolled off and spilled around them. Aranea jumped onto a barstool, but before she could jump down and continue pummeling Gladio, Ignis seized her leg.

“Miss Highwind, I beg of you! You said you know Prompto!” He didn’t care about who heard anymore, ignoring the flashing cameras. Aranea turned, murder gleaming in her eyes, but Ignis implored, “I’m worried for him. He won’t take my calls and I must apologize! You said he’s hurting himself, I beg of you, I have to speak with him!”

“Why the hell would you care?” Aranea sneered. “‘No personal connection,’ wasn’t that what you said?”

“And so what if it was?” Ignis braced himself. “Just because I am nothing to him doesn’t mean I can’t care!”

“You’re nothing to _ him_?” Aranea scoffed, and Ignis nodded somberly.

“I never earned Prompto’s affection, Miss Highwind. I fell for an unattainable boy with no regard for his position in the world and had to disrepute him because others disapprove. Please tell me he’s alright.”

Aranea was silent, lips sealed in a thin line, but she shook her head. “You’re more of an idiot than you look, Johnny boy.”

“Perhaps.” Ignis let go of her leg and instead held her gaze. “But I am a fool who prefers to have clarity on where I stand. I implore you, Miss Highwind, at least tell me he’ll be alright.” He bowed his head. “If nothing else, it would be enough to know he can go on after all this and brighten someone else’s life.”

Aranea stared impassively, lips just parted as if words were on the tip of her tongue and she was warring them back, and as Ignis looked into her face, he realized something:

If she knew Prompto, and knew Prompto well enough to say what she’d said of him before, then surely she was connected to his business. Connected to Izunia.

“I see.” He furrowed his brow and lowered his eyes again. “Another of Izunia’s traps, for which we’ve already fallen.”

“What?!” The interjection sputtered out with pure surprise, as Aranea stepped down off the bar. “And what the hell do you know about Izunia?!”

“Only that he begrudges us, and that Prompto was made into a tool to orchestrate our downfall. I can only imagine he ensured you encountered us here, in public, to fan the flames of our ruination higher.” Ignis circled past her, unable to bear staring at her, emblematic of his own failure, and crossed behind the bar. 

Gladio lay motionless among broken glass and spilled bottles, groaning. The broken glass must have scraped down his face, as there was a fresh line across his right eye, mercifully missing the eye itself but blood streaked his cheek and brow. 

Ignis winced—the man had come back from the front lines in Galahd unscathed, only to delve into this conflict and be wounded. He knelt at his side. “Gladiolus.”

“Shuddup, Dad,” Gladio groaned, coming to slowly, and Ignis grimaced at the thought of what Clarus would think of this new scandal.

“He’s not here, Gladio, but you’re hurt. We need to get you out of here.”

“Nah, man, we need’a talk, you gotta get Prompto outta your system,” Gladio mumbled, and groaned as Ignis helped him to his feet, broken glass sliding off of his chest, blood streaming down from the cut on his face. He must have hit his head, Ignis realized miserably.

“I’m afraid that won’t happen. Come on.” Gladio began to slump again the moment Ignis had him upright, so Ignis worked his arm around his shoulder to support him. Ignis groaned as Gladio slumped onto his shoulders as dead weight, but staggered for the door, past the photographers still snapping away, with Aranea staring after him. Ignis glanced back to see her expression of shock slowly shifting to anger, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. She wasn’t chasing him or Gladio, and Gladio needed medical attention post-haste.

There was nothing he could do for Prompto from here, and he’d hurt his friends enough already for one night.

Aranea, however, made the connections—if Izunia really did hate Lucid like Ignis said, then everything fit too neatly. How easy would it have been for Izunia to orchestrate the scandal about Ignis hiring a prostitute! After all, it was almost true. Hadn’t Izunia had been the one who’d all but sent her here by dangling the man who’d hurt Prompto in front of her like bait? It wasn’t like she kept her inclinations secret; Izunia had known what she would do. 

Izunia had used her.

Under the blue and purple neon lights, alone in the aftermath of another black mark on Lucid, Aranea saw only red. “That son of a bitch!”

_ He's the executioner and she is the queen  
And he's the one whose neck is in the guillotine _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tracklist #12 - "She's Kerosene," The Interruptors
> 
> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/185425540@N02/49040083707/in/dateposted-public/)  

> 
> (terrible photo edit made hastily by me at 2 a.m. because it made me laugh. all images found on the Final Fantasy Wiki. https://finalfantasy.fandom.com/)


	16. Dawn's First Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a revelation from Noctis, a light appears at the end of the tunnel, but Prompto is still in the dark...

**16\. Dawn’s First Light**

It was far too early to be awake, with the first image of the sun’s rays just beginning to poke over the edge of the horizon, gleaming on the harbor and into the corridor windows. Ignis sat slumped in an armchair in the lobby outside of Clarus’ private office with his sketchpad, desperate for some distraction. He couldn’t read the news, not with every news article blaring the same headline until it had emblazoned on his glasses:

_ "SON OF LUCID DESIGNS CFO ASSAULTS WOMAN AT BAR" _

“You idiot! How could you?! What were you thinking?!” Clarus’ voice echoed through the closed door, and Ignis grimaced. He’d gotten Gladio to an urgent care center to have his wound examined, to have his head scanned, and to get cleaned up and checked out. By the time his stitches were in and he’d been run through the CAT scan, the news was popping up all over social media, gossip websites, even the entertainment section of the news. There were photographs. There was video, very clearly showing Gladio shoving Aranea to the ground. 

A scar on Gladio's face, and another black eye for Lucid.

The moment Gladio was well enough to pick up his phone, Clarus had been shouting at him. It had continued as Ignis escorted Gladio back to the office, where Clarus was waiting to continue the excoriation. All Gladio could muster in his defense was, “She started it, Dad, she was going after Iggy and making him feel worse,” which only sent Clarus into a tirade about Ignis that Ignis just couldn’t bear to hear. He’d stepped out to let father and son have some privacy until they could calm enough to come up with some plan to counter this newest scandal, hopefully before the morning phones began to ring with more and more questions, before the emails from investors, shareholders, partners, friends.

If this hit as hard as it was looking to, however, it could be the blow that sank their stock prices and gave Izunia the opening he wanted.

However, Ignis wasn't a market expert or a PR maven. He was an artist, a starving soul sated only by beauty. Ignis instead did what he always wished to do when he wanted to tune out a meeting or numb out his mind—found some paper and a pencil, and began to sketch.

Prompto’s visage in lead soon gazed back at him, looking forlorn and beautiful. Ignis couldn’t bring himself to make him smile.

Ignis faintly thought he heard footsteps, but he wasn’t certain until there was a heavy shadow on his sketchpad. “I didn’t know you did life drawings.” Noctis, sounding like he’d just beamed down from outer space and had a bad ride of it. Ignis glanced up at him and slicked his mussed hair from his eyes.

“Nobody’s ever asked me to.” He looked back down to his sketch of Prompto, then sighed and turned to face Noctis. Noctis was slouching and carrying a battered leather briefcase in one hand. He had circles under his eyes, his hair was more cowlicked than usual, and he was wearing the same trousers as the day before. Ignis furrowed his brow. “You look exhausted.”

“All-nighter.” Noctis groaned and threw himself into the chair across from Ignis’. Ignis noticed he didn’t let go of the suitcase.

“Is there more to it than that?”

“Mmm.” Noctis yawned, then opened the briefcase. “Had some light reading.” Ignis noticed Noctis leafing through the documents again, shaking his head. “Took a while to get through it all, but I was up waiting for Prompto.” 

Ignis felt that like a flare in his chest. “You were waiting for… Prompto?”

“Mhm.” Noctis yawned again. “Yeah, y’know, I think I get why you like that canned coffee crap so much, but I like sleep better.”

“Noctis, focus!” Ignis jumped out of his chair and rushed over to him. “What were you reading?! Prompto—what did you say about Prompto?”

“Prompto…” Noctis yawned again. “Stole Izunia’s briefcase. He was at the brothel, so he went and stole it for me. Me and Dino Ghiranze from the paper read it all.” He leafed through a few documents with post-it flags. “Found the good shit.”

“God.” Ignis’ stomach fell through the floor. “So you—”

“Yeah, Dino’s putting a big fat exposee together now. It’ll be on the Citadel’s website by noon, on the six o’clock news, and in all the papers in the morning.” Noctis waved a page. “Izunia slipped a few times. He doesn’t own the brothel directly, but one of the other Aldercapt guys—Besithia? I think he’s like, a Talent Director?—he does. Izunia’s got a contract to take a cut and free access, but there’s links to the car, the newspaper that blew you guys out the first time, that temp service… It’s all here. Izunia keeps the original documents on him so he knows where they are all the time, but Prompto…”

“Prompto stole that?!” Ignis grabbed Noctis’ shoulders, and Noctis slowly, sleepily nodded, as Clarus opened the door a crack and he and Gladio looked out, Gladio looking cowed and Clarus still red in the face. Noctis didn’t even notice them as he slid down deeper into the chair.

“Tol’ja twice.” He handed a piece of paper to Ignis. “See, here it is, Versatile Holdings. It’s so old it’s not on the digital records and believe me, the physical records aren’t a tomb anyone wants to raid.” He tapped the page. “Everything ties back here if you dig deep enough. That’s Besithia and Aldercapt’s CEO’s original company. It actually holds Aldercapt Fashions, too. Ain’t that something? The same people own Prompto and our biggest competitor.” 

Clarus marched forward at that. “Noctis, what in the world are you—” 

“Noct, please, what happened to Prompto?” Ignis grabbed him by the cheeks, and Noctis huffed and shook him off.

“Told him, hey, don’t go back. Come with me. Didn’t wanna let ‘im take no for an answer.” Noctis sighed, glazed eyes turning towards the floor. “He said he’d come, but he said he wanted his camera. I can’t buy his memories.”

“Oh, stars.” Ignis put a hand over his mouth. “Oh, _ stars_, he stole Ardyn Izunia’s briefcase and doubled back.”

“What the hell?!” Gladio burst forth. “Since when is Prompto every dumb cheerleader in a horror movie?!”

“You said the prostitute stole that?!” Clarus was a step and an epithet behind Gladio, and Noctis roused and scowled.

“Hey, he’s got a name, and he’s done us a damn favor.”

Ignis could hardly calculate everything happening around him, facts piling up too fast but circling around his last question: “Where is he?!”

“Never showed.” Noctis’ gaze fell back to the suitcase. “I think… if he was gonna come back, he would’ve…”

“If Izunia figured out he stole his shit, then he probably couldn’t!” Gladio roared, then pointed at his face. “Look what he had his damn crony do to me!”

Noctis noticed Gladio’s scar, and frowned. “Wait, what? What happened to you?”

“Izunia sent the house madam to kick my ass!" Gladio crossed his arms, as Clarus slapped his shoulder.

“You fought a woman in public and thought there was a single situation in which you could come out in a good light.” Clarus pushed past him. “Noctis, explain.”

“I took charge.” Despite still being and sounding exhausted, Noctis dragged himself to his feet and showed Clarus the suitcase. “Some lead by words, some by action. I thought that if whoever got the article together was able to get that photograph of Prompto, they might have had some connection to the brothel Prompto’s chained to. Prompto was able to make the exact link we needed to hook Izunia.” He shook the suitcase. “Prompto got me the information we needed by bringing me Izunia’s shit, because he carries his evidence on him like a rat carries the plague, and he let go of it thanks to a certain blond.”

Ignis wanted to be jubilant, but all he could feel was sick. “But… Prompto…”

“Noctis, this is all well and good, but…” Clarus turned to Gladio, eyes dark. “This newest scandal with Gladio all over it—”

Just then, another voice sounded down the hall: “That’s right boys, Aranea Highwind! That’s me! Get a good damn look at my face!” 

Everyone but Noctis turned to see a familiar woman in a black skirt strolling down the hall, holding her cell phone out with the camera facing her. “I’m the nasty bitch who goaded Gladiolus Amicitia into a bar fight! _ I egged him on! _I was asking for it, baby, and you know why?” Aranea was dragging something big wrapped up in a black tarp, and Ignis, Noctis, and Gladio didn’t dare move as she sauntered closer, winking at the camera. Nyx was, amazingly, following behind her and obviously trying not to laugh into his hand as Aranea went on, “Because I wanted to see that meatcake taken down a peg. Don’t believe me? I busted into Lucid’s HQ and I’m here to kick his ass again! Wish me luck, kids!”

She turned and bolted towards Gladio, the tarp screeching on the tile, and Gladio threw himself between her and Ignis. She skidded to a halt a foot from him, turned her phone off, and winked at Gladio. “Hey, you think me throwing that live broadcast of me blazing past your guard, admitting the whole thing was my fault, and threatening you again is gonna take the heat off of you, meatshield? ‘Cause that scar’s pretty nice, but I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t look good with grill marks.”

Ignis’ jaw dropped. Gladio was struck speechless too, but Clarus turned his attention to Nyx. “Mr. Ulric, with all due respect, what the hell?”

“Hey.” Nyx put his hand up like he was surrendering. “The lady said she had a present for Mr. Scientia, gift-wrapped, and she wanted to play a prank on the younger Mr. Amicitia. Who am I to say no?”

Aranea chuckled roughly. “Yeah, see, he’s smart. I like him. Good guy you got here. Also, you need to improve security.” Aranea gestured towards him with a dismissive thumb, and Nyx flicked the middle finger on his prosthetic towards her. Then, Aranea held her hand out to Noctis. “Noctis Caelum, right?”

Noctis stared at her, until Gladio poked his arm. “Dude, she’s trying to shake your hand.”

“Dunno if I wanna, yet.”

“Don’t blame you, baby CEO.” Aranea crossed her arms. “So, you wanna tell me why you have Ardyn Izunia’s bag of creepy shit?”

“Only if you tell me what’s in the tarp.” Noctis pointed behind her. Ignis went pale—_ had it just moved? _

“Present for Johnny-boy there.” She motioned to Ignis, then faced him. “Listen, I realized something: You were right. Izunia used me.” Her face tightened, and her voice dropped an octave: “And nobody uses me.” She hoisted up the tarp with a little effort and both hands. "So, since Izunia used me, I decided to go through his toolbox and checked the cameras at the house. I've got recordings of a bunch of Izunia's comings and goings, and audio evidence of him colluding to run a prostitute ring with the head of house security. But I decided to get better evidence, and maybe clear some stuff up about Prompto, too." She set the tarp's contents on the lobby table, then whistled to Nyx. "Watch this one."

Ignis braced himself as she flipped the tarp open. A man - an actual, living _ person _ \- rolled out, a man not much older than Noctis, with a mop of yellow hair and wearing a cheap security guard uniform. His arms, ankles, and mouth were bound and sealed with duct tape. Clarus' jaw dropped as Aranea planted her foot on his back like she was claiming him in the name of Spain. "Boys, meet Loqi Tummelt! Junior security for Idle Pursuits, weaselly little shit, one of Izunia's trusted errand boys, and bold enough to wag his fucking belt buckle at the sweetest boy in the goddamn universe for _ not _ charging Johnny boy there for sex!"

Ignis' eyes went wide, as Aranea dug her heel in. Loqi screamed into the gag, calling Aranea something that rhymed with "lazy hunt" through the adhesive. "I beg your pardon, he did what!?"

"Oh, you heard me." Aranea stepped back. "He found out that Prompto wasn't charging you. He and one of the others forced the charges through, and this little fucker decides to call him fat and make a threat with his dick."

Gladio was breathing very, very loudly, fists clenched and trembling at his sides. "You better make him say whatever it is you're gonna make him say before I strangle it outta him."

Ignis, meanwhile, was in a maelstrom of emotions. Prompto had never wanted to be a whore to him, and this person had manipulated and forced him, then threatened him. Slowly, he stepped forward and seized Tummelt by the hair. "I'm going to remove the gag," he declared tonelessly, calm as death itself and twice as unforgiving. "And you will speak."

He pulled the duct tape off as slow as he could. Loqi groaned and swore, but just as he craned his neck up to spit something vicious at Ignis, Aranea planted her foot on the small of his back. "Don't be shy now!" She flapped a hand at Gladio. "Make yourself useful, get a voice recording."

Gladio fumbled with his pockets for a second, but Clarus, still dumbstruck himself, pinched his arm and shoved his phone into Gladio's hand. Gladio got the recorder open, just as Aranea seized Loqi by the hair. "Alright, asshole, tell me about the camera."

"Fuck you, cu—"

Ignis backhanded Loqi. "That," he muttered, "is no way to talk to a lady."

"Your fuckhole didn't care how I talked to him, fuck you!" Loqi strained at his bindings, and blood roared into Ignis' face. "I didn't do anything I didn’t have a right to!"

"Then what did you do?" Aranea pressed her weight down, the heel of her boot digging into the flesh of Loqi's scrawny back. Ignis seized him by the hair and squeezed his scalp. Loqi spat and panted in pain, then blurted:

"Gave Izunia footage from the security camera. Ardyn Izunia wanted proof that Scientia there was fucking the slut!"

Ignis' whole soul caught flame. _ How dare he_.

Aranea, keeping cool, charged on: "But there was no proof he paid for it, was there? Did that young man ask Scientia for payment?"

Loqi struggled a second, but Gladio and Clarus both drew themselves up, Noctis cracked his knuckles against the handle of the suitcase, and Loqi shook his head. "The little idiot never put a charge through. He was taking Scientia's dick for free. Ulldor made him charge for the overnight."

Ignis felt sick, and his question bubbled out of him uncontrolled: "Where is Prompto?"

Loqi's eyes went wide. "Wait, he gave you his real name?"

"Where is Prompto?" Ignis repeated, and Gladio stepped forward. 

"He was running away last night but never made it to us. Where is he?"

Loqi looked between Aranea, Ignis, and Gladio, then swallowed hard. "Haven't seen him since last night."

Noctis' phone rang just then, and he whipped it out, eyes wide. "Prompto." He answered as Ignis turned his attention from Loqi to him, and heard a faint rustle, and then he heard an unfamiliar voice:

_ "Having fun, dear boy?" _

* * *

Izunia had struck Prompto across the side of his head with the pistol, smashing him in the temple and knocking him out cold. Prompto had figured out that much when everything had gone black.

His head still hurt when he'd woken up, sensations fuzzy and distant as he came to, but he soon pieced things together: he was tied to a chair in an unfamiliar kitchen, wrists bound behind his back, ankles duct-taped to the legs of the chair. He instinctively struggled as the rest of the facts fell back into place: he could smell dried blood in his nose, his mouth felt dry and cottony like it had been dried out with a washcloth. His ears were still ringing, but even so, he could still hear Izunia:

"Yes, everything. Make it so that I didn't exist. I need my name gone—I don't care what it takes." Ardyn paused. "There surely must be something—come, now. No. No. Shh. Figure something out and call me back."

_ Oh, _Prompto thought, letting his eyes fall closed for a second. Ardyn was trying to get out of his own stupid web. 

Prompto wouldn't let him, even if he was just another fly. Come a little closer, he wanted to say, stick yourself deeper. He'd led men on before. Plus, he'd seen an old movie about magicians, so he had an idea on how to do it.

Prompto pushed his wrists out against the ropes as hard as he could, then pressed them together, which gave him just enough wiggle room to move his forearms. He twisted his arms back and slid his right arm down to grab his phone, grateful for the flexibility he'd built up from years of bending over backwards to please others. He worked his cell phone screen out of his back pocket, then fumbled with it until it unlocked. He managed to redial the last number he'd called without looking, and heard it ring once. Then, Noctis picked up.

"Noct," Prompto whispered, but Ardyn Izunia entered just then. He observed Prompto for a moment, smirking.

"Having fun, dear boy?"

Prompto inhaled, then forced cheer into his voice with a smile. "This isn't my idea of fun, to be honest." He hoped upon hope that his phone was picking up the conversation. "Usually when a guy ties me up, I prefer he get permission first."

Ardyn chuckled. "Cute. Don't be coy; you know what you did." He wagged a finger as he swaggered towards Prompto. "You signed off on your own fate when you disobeyed my rules. I asked you to be _ quiet_, pet."

"I don't have to obey you when you're not paying for it." Prompto grimaced. "Gotta say, never thought a weirdo like you would make for this boring of a date. Last time you at least gagged me."

Ardyn sneered as he seized Prompto's jaw. "I didn't think it wise to tire out that pretty mouth of yours too soon, even if I prefer it shut." He clicked his tongue and brushed his index fingers together in a chiding motion. "I could revoke that kindness, if you prefer."

"You could cry rainbows and I wouldn't believe you had a single drop of nice left in you." Prompto scoffed and hung his head. The sound of his own voice was making his head hurt worse. However, he could faintly hear whispering behind his back, and he knew Noctis was listening, and maybe he wasn't alone.

_ "... Recipeh for disaster… _"

_ Iggy_, Prompto realized, and braced himself. He had to help Noct and Iggy. “I don't even get it." He crossed his fingers they had realized what was happening and were recording. "Like, owning me and the whole escort service, the newspapers, all on the side of being Aldercapt’s star style photographer, you like money, I get that. But why are you using it all to get to Noct and Lucid?”

"Noct?" Ardyn sounded amused. "You must be close to him."

"There's nothing illegal about being friends with a guy, is there?" Prompto tightened his knees against the edge of the chair. 

"Friendship." Ardyn scoffed. "How could a foolish wretch like you understand? Words like 'friend' and 'brother' mean nothing to men as powerful as the Caelums." He wagged his finger at Prompto as he strolled towards the refrigerator behind him. "I was unfortunate once, but I was willing to fight my way up from the bottom to succeed. Regis Caelum pretended to be friend and brother, until the moment one disaster occurred near me and it became more convenient to forget me." Ardyn took a bottle of wine from the refrigerator shelf, then took a swig from it. “Lucis was supposed to be my future, until the old man left me in the dust over an accident that wasn't even my fault.”

Prompto sighed. "Yeah, tell me about it." He shook his head, but as Ardyn took another long drag from the bottle, he heard whispering again:

_ "Prompto, where are you?" _

Ardyn's eyes went wide, and Prompto knew he'd heard. He put on a wide, innocent grin as Ardyn whipped around on him, but it failed to hide his nerves. He hung up the phone, jamming his thumb on the screen as fast as he could, but Ardyn was already on top of him, grabbing the phone.

"You fool, what were you playing at?" Ardyn had his teeth out now as he gripped the phone tight, not even pretending deniability anymore. 

"They know I'm gone. They're trying to call me." Prompto winced. "Aranea will tear up the city looking—"

"As if anyone cares about one missing whore." Ardyn pitched Prompto's phone at the wall as hard as he could, smashing the screen, then pivoted back around on Prompto, viciously calm. “Nobody knows you're here. Nobody will care. You'll rot and die alone under my hand as sure as you would have in that brothel." He exhaled, then put on the most horrible smile Prompto could have ever imagined on a person. "At least this way I'll personally get the pleasure of watching your pretty smile break.” His eyes seemed to gleam wicked mischief for a second, dark like ichor and his hollowed cheekbones and jaw unnervingly skeletal in the dim daylight, then he turned on Prompto and stalked back out of his kitchen.

Prompto was left to grimace to himself at the ruination of his phone, head still throbbing and the smell of blood creeping up the back of his throat, then slumped in the chair. “Hopefully I did something useful, anyway.” 

He didn't know if he had helped, but if this was all he could do to stop Ardyn, then at least he'd done it. Whatever it took to help them, he'd do it.

* * *

"Stop, don't record this, call the police!" Ignis hissed to Noctis as Ardyn's conversation with Prompto was carried down the line. Clarus had sealed the duct tape back over Loqi's mouth when he began to squirm and swear again, so the conversation could be heard clearly. Gladio grimaced, but kept his phone's recorder going against the speaker. "We can't just sit here and listen, this is a recipe for disaster!"

"Iggy," Noctis muttered, hand over his mouth, "He called us. He wants us to hear this."

"Yeah, but if he's talking to that guy, we know he's in danger." Gladio pulled a face, shaking his head, but Aranea shushed him. Ignis noticed her texting furiously. 

When Prompto and Izunia went quiet, Gladio stopped recording, and Noctis grabbed his phone and spoke softly into the receiver: "Prompto, where are you?"

There was no response for thirty seconds, followed by a terrible crash. Ignis winced as the line went dead, and Gladio shook his head, growling, "The bastard heard us. If Prompto wasn't in danger before, he is now! We need to call the cops now!"

"Calm your tits." Aranea pushed Gladio's chest as she stormed past him to face Noctis and Ignis. "I already told my guys to call the police. Biggs reported Prompto missing. Wedge, however, found our address book. We have about a dozen for Izunia." She motioned to Loqi. "Someone ought'a stay with him until he can't make shit worse, but the rest of us should go looking, fast. I sent Biggs and Wedge to check out the addresses on the North side of the city. I'm going to the South, and I'm taking Johnny-boy here with me." She seized Ignis' sleeve. "You think someone you don't matter to would write love letters like the ones I found in his room?"

Ignis' eyes went wide. "He… wrote…"

"Yeah. Stupider shit than you spouted at me last night." Aranea turned her grab at him into a hold. "He'll want to see you."

"Hey," Noctis interrupted, "I'm all for Specs rescuing his damsel, but Prompto's my friend."

"And Noct isn't going without me," Gladio added, drawing himself up. "I'm head of security and he's CEO, after all."

Aranea rolled her eyes. "Fine, whatever. If you're all coming, let's go." She turned on her heel, and Ignis braced himself and followed.

It didn't matter that he was an artist, not a hero. Prompto had acted to save his company, his livelihood, his life, and now he was going to save Prompto.


	17. Innocent and Guilty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search is on for Prompto and Ardyn Izunia.

**17\. Innocent & Guilty**

Prompto came to again and could tell the sun had moved, so it had been a while. His head still hurt, aching and throbbing, but over his own ringing ears, he could hear Ardyn Izunia:

“It’s about to be everywhere. Everything. No, I can’t help you, I did everything in my power to hide our tracks when you took your side businesses and made it so you could explain the profits. What do you think I was trying to do when you needed to fund the crusade against Lucid? You knew very well what you were getting into when you established this, but you had me do it anyway.” Ardyn was clicking his tongue. “Angry that you’re hoisted by your own petard—Now, now, lay low, make your excuses; you’re wealthy enough, it’ll blow over. However, I’m afraid I’ll be away for a bit.” A suitcase slammed shut in the other room. Prompto heard the locks click. “Why not say you didn’t love the whores, Iedolas? It worked for the bloody jewelry designer.” He hung up, and Prompto grimaced as Ardyn strode back into the kitchen.

“Awake again? Are you going to mouth off this time?” Ardyn stood, hands on his hips, still smirking as if he’d won. “Or do you only talk when you’ve someone to talk to?”

“I was a lonely kid. I can handle quiet.” Prompto rolled his neck and scowled at Ardyn. “But let’s get real for a second: you’re fucked.” Ardyn’s smile dropped again, making him harsh and ugly. “I’ll admit it—I totally gave Noct all your shit. I don’t feel bad about it, either. You were probably screwed anyway the second everyone started looking at you closer, I just sped up the process.”

“And look at all the good it will do! I’ll be across the ocean and long gone well before anyone can catch me and do anything about it.” Ardyn tossed his hair. “I’ve done enough damage to Lucid. They’ll be dead before winter anyway.”

“No they won’t. Iggy won’t let that happen. Noct and Gladio won’t let that happen. Too many people care about it. Hell, they were willing to give me a chance, I don’t want them to sink either.” Prompto clenched his fists. “But they’ll find you. You’re going to pay for what they did to us, to me, to Cindy and the other girls and guys there.”

“You’re an idealist. That’s cute.” Ardyn planted his foot on Prompto’s thigh, the heel of his fancy boot digging into the muscle. Prompto gritted his teeth. “Save the optimism for the trip! Have you ever been to Niflheim? Tiny little country in the middle of Northern Europe, but with more financial power than Switzerland and a bit of a prostitution problem. A bit of a dead prostitute problem, to boot. A pretty thing like you best keep your wits about him, it’s far too easy to vanish there.” He pinched Prompto’s cheek. “Perhaps you should just be grateful you didn’t get fat like Ulldor said. I’d hate to have to pack you in two bags.”

Prompto inhaled sharply as he realized just what Ardyn intended, then, out of any options, screamed: “SOMEONE HELP ME!”

He tried to twist out of the chair again, tried to get his hand free of the ropes, but Ardyn seized him by the chin and smashed the back of his head against the wall. Pain radiated through Prompto’s head. Ardyn smashed one palm over Prompto’s mouth, then wrapped his bony fingers around Prompto’s neck and _ squeezed_, hissing: “And there! I’ve figured it out! I thought you reminded me of someone!” Prompto tried to scream against Ardyn’s hand, but Ardyn just squeezed tighter. “Every other blond bimbo I’ve taken to bed! You’re a dime a dozen, you and every worthless slut in this town, clones of imbeciles all cut from the same mold, and if you think you’re anything special to anyone—”

_ Ignis_.

That was the last thought he had before passing out again.

* * *

Ignis was grateful Noctis could sleep virtually anywhere, as Aranea sped across town in her car with Gladio and Ignis in tow, zipping from flophouse to flophouse in search of Ardyn. Noctis was almost awake now, though he might have been better off staying asleep. Ignis didn’t want to know how many traffic laws they’d broken, but Aranea had a knack for not getting caught. While Ignis, Noctis, and Gladio could have used a better driver, Prompto couldn’t have had a better ally.

“Just two addresses left,” Aranea muttered as she closed the door again. She began to text her friends. “No luck from Biggs or Wedge either, but they’ve got cops planted at every place we’ve hit so he can’t jump.”

Ignis nodded stoically, then strained to listen to the report from the radio:

_ “Earlier today, a massive web of shell companies was connected and revealed, linking fashion industry giant Aldercapt Fashions to multiple illicit businesses, including organized crime, murder for hire schemes, a prostitution ring, and counterfeiting operations. There is also evidence that some of Aldercapt Fashions models were kept as sex slaves, and that they ran multiple schemes aimed at exploiting young people to recruit them into prostitution…” _

“The walls are closing in on him,” Noctis muttered out of a half-asleep haze. “If he tries to run, they’re going to be looking for him, every airport, train station, everywhere.”

“Yeah, well let’s hope he hasn’t run _ with _ Prompto.” Aranea jerked the wheel rather sharply on the turn, and Noctis tumbled into Gladio. Gladio forced him to sit up, as they pulled up to the parking lot in the Zegnautus Heights Suites. “This one’s closest to the docks, but it’s out of the way.”

The four of them marched right past the doorman with one harsh look from Aranea, and the doorman dropped the phone he was lifting when Gladio turned from the back of the pack with his lip curled in a snarl. Aranea took them up to the top floor on the elevator. Gladio checked his phone as the elevator rumbled under them, and muttered, “The Department of Justice just announced that they’ll be conducting a full investigation of Aldercapt’s finances, and they’re going to work with the Niflheim authorities to get access to their HQ. I think we might’ve blown them up.” Noctis acknowledged him with a hum, hands tightening into fists until his knuckles went white. Ignis kept his eyes straight forward, training his focus on what was in front of him: Find Prompto. Nothing else mattered so long as Prompto was alive. 

Whatever was about to happen to Aldercapt was out of his hands. Such was the nature of business and crime alike, much like war: he’d had his hand in it, but a single man had no effect on such machinations. What mattered was the one man whose hand he could take. 

The hallways were too close for comfort, coming in on them, and Ignis’ heart rate picked up as they neared the suite belonging to Ardyn Izunia. They reached the door, and before Aranea could break it down, Ignis caught a faint echo of noise and raised a finger to halt her. 

“Listen.” He motioned to the door, and all four of them were silent. They could all hear a voice through the door. Noctis and Gladio frowned and strained to hear better, but Ignis looked to Aranea. “I know this voice. He called me to demand I give him insider information about Lucid.”

“That sounds like him. Both that, and this.” Aranea wound up to break the door down, but Ignis held out a hand.

“Stop! Wait. Let’s strategize.” Ignis motioned to the door. “We might be able to stop him, but we can do very little with him ourselves. I suggest we call in backup that might actually be able to do something with him.” Aranea’s eyes widened as understanding dawned on her.

“I get your meaning.” She nodded a few times, then pointed at Noctis and Gladio in turn. “Prince, you like making phone calls, call the police. Meatshield, you keep anyone but the cops from getting past this door.” Each man nodded, and Noctis whipped his phone out as Aranea turned her attention back to Ignis. “Johnny, you’re with me. I can handle Ardyn, but you get your hands on Prompto and get the hell out of dodge. I’ll keep him talking ‘til the cops get here. He likes the sound of his own voice.” She shot Gladio a pointed look. "We'll hold him by force as a last result, but you boys don't need any more trouble."

“A good plan. Kindly cease calling me Johnny.” Ignis stood back, and Aranea gave him a toothy grin. 

“You got it, Specs.” With that, she wound up and kicked the door down, breaking it clean off of its hinges. Ignis and Aranea ran in, only to find Prompto nearly immediately, bound to a kitchen chair in a dark room near the entryway and beside a dividing wall, with silk ropes around his thin wrists and binding his ankles to the chair’s legs. His head was slumped forward, chin on his chest. His throat was blooming with fresh bruises, blood had dried on the side of his face and matted his hair. He was breathing, but faintly, too faintly, and Ignis’ heart jumped and stuck in the back of his mouth. 

He was battered, but alive, and for that, Ignis couldn’t have loved him more.

“Prompto!” He surged forward to release him, but before he could get a step forward, a man Ignis had never seen before, designer black coat swishing in sharp motion, emerged from behind a dividing wall with a butcher knife, which he positioned under Prompto’s throat.

“Ah-ah, let’s not be hasty, Mr. Scientia.” The man who could only possibly be Ardyn Izunia smirked at Ignis. “I’m afraid that once again, you have two mutually exclusive goals.”

“You bastard!” Aranea growled, but Ignis held a hand up.

“Ms. Highwind, I beg you not be hasty!” Ignis was tasting iron and mud now, fear becoming a stumbling block between him and his heart’s desire as the edge of the knife just touched Prompto’s neck. A thin streak of blood trickled down from under the blade, and Ignis thought he’d weep when Prompto whined softly. “Premature action will aid nobody.” He gave her a significant look, and she bared her teeth.

“Don’t you talk fancy at me!”

“The man’s not wrong, Miss Highwind,” Ardyn purred. “I won’t jump the gun, so let’s take this down a notch, shall we? Nobody has to be hurt here today.” He stroked down through Prompto’s hair, and Prompto emitted a gurgling, pained noise. Ignis grimaced.

“What do you hope to accomplish, Mr. Izunia?”

“You say it as if having desires is somehow a sin in and of itself.” Ardyn’s gaze played over Ignis and Aranea. “You must understand, I’ve really done nothing wrong.”

“Bullshit!” Aranea snarled, baring her teeth and marching a step forward, but Ardyn pressed the knife closer into Prompto’s neck. 

“Mind yourself, madam, or I’ll take away any reason you might have to want to be here.” 

“You bastard, you—”

“He’s innocent in this,” Ignis interrupted, firm but not unkind, like speaking to a subordinate. Ardyn looked unimpressed, and Ignis added. “He’s a gentle boy who was doing what he thought he had to do to survive.”

“A shame he crossed me in the process.” Ardyn tsked, and managed to nearly look genuinely sad as he looked down at the unconscious Prompto. “He was fine, selling himself for whatever others thought he was worth, but he exposed me.” He shot Ignis a vicious smirk out of nowhere. “Like I exposed you, lover boy.” Ignis scoffed.

“You’ll find my reputation repaired by truth, Izunia.”

“How fortunate for you! Truth would have done me good, but my fate was decided by Mors and Regis Caelum, like a cruel god damning a sinner!” Ardyn gesticulated. “Or did Daddy never tell you how he banished me from what was rightfully mine?”

“An old shame of his,” Ignis admitted. “Noctis himself could tell you the same.”

“Then you know well it’s far too late for the truth to save me!” Izunia cast his arm open. “Truth won’t save this boy, either. He shares my fate. If I am damned, so, too, shall he be.” Ardyn crouched behind Prompto, the knife’s blade tilting up towards his ear. “You will stand down and let me walk past you, with the boy in tow. You will make no further move to impede me. One wrong move, either to seize him from me or to stop me, will result in his pretty mouth never opening again. He’ll live, and I’ll return him to you when I’m safe.”

“Izunia.” Ignis bit his lip, and tapped the back of Aranea’s wrist as he took a half step closer. “You have nothing to gain from taking Prompto. His presence will not keep you from being arrested from your presently alleged criminal actions. Release him to me and we will stand down.” Prompto made another soft noise, and Ignis saw his eyelashes flutter, saw his eyes open just a sliver. His heart welled with hope, with love, with sadness at his pain and joy at knowing he still lived. “He is more than a lover to me, dearer than a friend. You must have known that same loss that I feel now when Regis and Aera were forced to cut ties with you.” 

“Hmph.” Ardyn sneered, but Ignis held a hand out.

“We have a common goal, Izunia. We all each only wish to return to the places we belong. I wish to go home, and I wish to bring my darling Prompto with me. You, too, surely only wish to resume doing that which you love.” 

Ardyn was silent, and Ignis could see Prompto waking, regaining consciousness, breathing a little deeper. His eyes, big, blue, and unfocused, landed on him, and Ignis saw recognition dawn. He mouthed his name, _ “Ignis,” _into the still air, and Ignis smiled encouragingly and mouthed it back:

_ I’m here, darling. _

“You’re a man of reason as clear as diamond, Scientia. No wonder you’re a jewelry designer.” Izunia sighed with what sounded like regret and resignation. “You’re not wrong. I do merely wish to go back.” His ground his teeth together, and Ignis saw his knife jerk. “A shame that such a thing is impossible for me!”

Ardyn pushed the knife in, right as Prompto twisted his head and bit Ardyn on the wrist as hard as a man could. He yelled and dropped the knife, and Ignis rushed in and put the bottom of his shoe into Ardyn’s chest, knocking him back into the wall. Ignis seized the chair Prompto was bound to and dragged it back, and Aranea put herself between Ignis and Ardyn just as he recovered, teeth bared and eyes wild and black with rage. 

“Why you—”

“Stop it!” Ignis looked up to see Noctis marching past him. “You’re not going to fix anything like this.” He planted himself between Ignis and Ardyn, and Aranea ducked down to help Ignis get Prompto out of his bindings.

“Prompto,” Ignis whispered to him, and Prompto looked up towards him, on the verge of tears.

“Did you mean it?” He rasped, and Ignis cringed at the fear and doubt in those few words.

“Of course I did, darling.” Ignis worked the ropes loose from his wrists. “You’re more important to me than anything, and I’m so sorry I lost sight of that.”

Aranea kept working at the ropes on Prompto’s legs as Ignis smoothed his hair and felt over the injuries on his head, as Noctis planted himself between Ardyn and the door and the others. “What do you think you’ll actually accomplish? You’re lashing out for no reason. You admitted yourself that there’s nothing you can do about it, so what’s the point of carrying your miserable grudge to the next person and the next? First my dad, now me and my friends?” Noctis crossed his arms. “Do you really think just making others miserable will make up for the pain you went through?”

“And what should you care?” Ardyn put on a false air of cool, but his anger strained at him like a lion pulling at its chain. “You’re a spoiled punk prince who’s never had to strive for everything in your life.”

“You might be right, but you don’t know me except for my name.” Noctis shoved his hands in his pockets. 

Ignis could see Prompto listening, but drew him close as he got him loose of his bonds. Prompto was limp and weak in his hold, and Ignis motioned to Aranea to stand aside with Prompto slung in his arms. 

“Still, I’ll thank you." Noctis held Izunia's gaze, as if daring him to challenge him. "You taught me a lesson. You took my dad, and I got a chance to prove I can stand up for the family business. Look at that, Ardyn—you made Lucid stronger. I figured out that with the right tools at my disposal, I can do anything.” Noctis put his foot down. “I’ll stand up for what’s important to my family and those important to me, and so my best friend can be happy with my new friend.” 

Ignis glanced down at Prompto and saw him smiling woozily at the ceiling. 

Noctis shifted a little to the side, but still held Ardyn’s gaze as he silently raged. “I’ll thank you for helping me prove that I can do anything, even against you.” He cocked his head. “And you just wallowed in your misery and tried to drag the rest of us down with you. I guess you were never Lucid material, huh?”

Ardyn snarled and lunged for Noctis just then, but before he could reach him, Gladio rushed past them and got between Noctis and Ardyn, pinning Ardyn to the wall by his shoulders. “DON’T YOU D—”

Before Gladio could have his say, a gaggle of uniformed policemen rushed in, guns drawn and pointed at Ardyn. Gladio dropped him and stood back as the police moved to arrest him. Ignis shifted backwards as the police crowded the space, but one turned to him and said, “Sir, the EMTs are on their way.”

Aranea and Ignis traded glances, and Ignis gave Prompto a gentle hug and whispered, “Everything’s going to be alright, my darling.”

Noctis, meanwhile, stood victorious over Ardyn flat on the ground as the police restrained him, and adjusted his suit jacket. “You think I’m nothing but a spoiled prince? Think again. Long live the King.”


	18. What People Will Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto recovers from his ordeal, and Ignis considers his future, and all the consequences thereof.

**18\. What People Will Say**

“Long live the King! God, you’re cheesy!” Prompto laughed from his wheelchair as Noctis pushed him down the hall of Insomnia General Hospital and into the elevator. Noctis laughed too. 

“Maybe, but I felt pretty damn cool.” He turned down the hall, moving carefully so as not to jostle Prompto. His head was wrapped with bandages and his neck was still stiff after being in the receiving end of Ardyn Izunia's hospitality. After a thorough examination and triage, a night in recovery and a painkiller prescription, Prompto was declared “mostly in good repair” and would be cleared for release after a CAT scan confirmed that his head injuries hadn’t resulted in any concussions. Noctis hadn’t left the hospital since he’d come in, after the last time he’d let Prompto out of his sight when he was supposed to be rescuing him had resulted in Prompto being hospitalized in the first place, in the long run. “Besides, he was the asshole calling me a prince.” The elevator doors closed, and Noctis sighed in relief. “Honestly, I’m not sure I’m ready to be King yet, if that’s what it takes. I’m still learning. As soon as Dad’s on his feet again, I’m giving him back his crown.”

“I don’t blame you. I’m hardly able to handle my own life, and we’re about the same age, aren’t we?” Prompto scrunched his nose, then looked up over his shoulder at Noctis. Noctis didn't quite look back at him.

"Pretty sure we graduated high school the same year—didn't you say you had to drop out 'cause your parents…?"

"Y… yeah." Prompto swallowed and fidgeted. "I, uh, got my equivalency though, so…"

"You're fine, Prompto. Trust me. Nobody thinks less of you over what you went through, and you're not gonna be homeless ever again." Noctis patted the handles of the wheelchair, then pushed him along. "As soon as you're cleared to go home, you're going home. The only question is where that home is gonna be." He leaned around the chair as he stopped by the nurse's station to sign in. "My offer stands. Spare bedroom in my penthouse, no questions asked, no rent. Miss Aranea dropped by with some of your clothes, too, said she can help you find a place if that's what you'd like, and she'll keep an eye on you 'til those stitches come out."

Prompto was about to answer, when he saw a dazzling flash of a familiar purple dress shirt appear from the room they were headed towards, but he blinked and the image was gone. "Oh…" 

"Prompto?" Noctis stopped and leaned around to look at him. "Something up?"

"Sorry. I… thought I saw…" Prompto sighed and shook his head. “Never mind. I must’ve had a dizzy spell.”

Noctis was scowling, but he patted Prompto’s shoulder. “You’re good, man. I’ll tell ‘em to be extra careful when they put you in the CAT scan machine. You sure you’re up for this?”

“Man, your old man just woke up from a coma and you’re worried about me?” Prompto laughed a little as Noctis lingered at the door to a curtained room. “This is fine. I really ought’a talk to him before I go talk to the police. Not ‘cause he’s gonna change what I have to say, but, well, it’s his company.”

“It’s not an interrogation, okay?” Noctis patted his shoulder. “Dad just heard about what you did and wanted to thank you himself. Ready?”

Prompto nodded, and Noctis wheeled him into the room. Clarus was standing near the head of the bed, with Gladio at his side, and Regis was laid out with the top half of the bed elevated to sit him up halfway, his broken leg elevated, his broken arm in a sling, his neck still in a brace and his nose still splinted, but when Noctis put the brakes on Prompto’s wheelchair, he smiled. “Noct, son.” His bleary eyes settled on him, then wandered down to Prompto, still beaming warmly. “It’s good to see you again, Prompto.”

“Yeah,” Noctis said louder than he had to, and looked right past Regis to Clarus. “That’s his _ name _. Prompto.”

Gladio turned his gaze towards Clarus, visibly warring with a guilty look, but Clarus sighed. “I’m aware. Prompto, glad to see you’re well.”

“As nice as it is to have you all here,” Regis interrupted, clearing his throat, though his voice only came out raspier, “I am still limited to three visitors at a time.”

“Sorry, boss.” Gladio stepped back. “I’ll head out for now, I think I gotta get these stitches checked anyway.” He circled the room towards the door, stopping for a second to pat Noctis and Prompto each on the back as he passed, and shut the door behind him. 

“He’s a good boy, Clarus.” Regis held his one functioning hand out. “We’ve both raised such good boys. And we’ve ended up surrounded by them. Prompto, I wish to apologize for everything that came to you due to your association with Lucid, and to thank you for everything you did on our behalf.” 

Prompto flushed and took Regis’ hand, and Regis weakly shook it. “Oh, um, no, please, don’t thank me! I just did what I thought was right. Um, did they tell you… about me?”

“An unavoidable facet of your history, my boy, but nothing I’ll hold against you.” Regis’ grip was flaccid at best, but he was obviously as sincere as could be. “I had hoped, however, you could tell me a little more about everything in person.”

“Yeah.” Prompto swallowed hard, then looked up to Noctis. Noctis nodded approvingly, and Prompto turned back towards Regis. “Um, where would you like me to begin?”

“Clarus?” Regis turned towards the other man, quaking from the effort. “Did you… did you find it?”

“Noctis did, actually.” Clarus cleared his throat, and Noct nervously laughed and reached for a bag hung on the door.

“So, funny story, Prompto.” Noctis took out a high school yearbook. “My dad remembered your name after he thought about it for a while, and asked me to find this.”

“I remember receiving a letter about your sudden expulsion due to some scurrilous rumors after your departure,” Regis added as Noctis opened the book and Regis flipped a few pages. Prompto felt the color and heat drain from his face. “I had assumed the worst, that you’d gotten in trouble, but you seem like such a good boy…” He stopped on a certain page, the junior year A surnames, and pointed at a face Prompto knew too well, a chubby teenager with a camera strap visible around his neck and a timid smile. “You went to my son’s school.”

“You were in drama club with me,” Noctis murmured. “You did all the scenery for my junior year performance of _ South Pacific _by editing and collaging photos from people’s vacations so we could print ‘em on giant screens.”

“Wish I’d gotten to see it put on.” Prompto smiled weakly at the faded memory. “So, um…”

“Tell me everything, son.” Regis sat forward and took his hand, and Prompto looked into his eyes, the eyes of a father like a man he could no longer remember, and knew for certain why Noctis would do everything he did for his father’s love.

He began to talk.

Outside, however, Gladio and Ignis each tried to peer through the curtains to watch the exchange. “Regis was getting misty looking at the kid,” Gladio muttered.

“How can one not? The poor dear looks like a kicked puppy.” Ignis sighed wearily. “I can’t hear a word.”

“You could just, y’know, go in and ask to take Noct’s place.” Gladio crossed his arms. “Noctis would let you hold his hand, and—”

“I’m not certain he wants that.” Ignis sighed, pinching his brow. “I don’t… I don’t know what he wants. What he must think of me.”

“What he thinks of you, huh. Ever think of asking?” Gladio swiped at Ignis’ shoulder, but Ignis deftly turned so he couldn’t grab at him. “C’mon, Specs. Didn’t this whole mess start with you bottling your feelings up?”

“Gladio—”

“Oh, there you are.” Gladio jumped a foot as the steady click of heels on tile sounded on the floor, and both men turned to see Aranea Highwind approaching. Ignis gathered himself first as Aranea strode towards him like a lioness, carrying something over her shoulder. “Meatshield, Four-eyes.”

Gladio grunted. Ignis gave a short nod. “Miss Highwind.”

“Aranea’s fine.” Aranea grinned at Ignis as Gladio tried to edge his way behind Ignis, putting him between the two of them. “Just the man I was looking for, too.” She swung the load off her shoulder—a duffel bag—and pushed it onto Ignis’ chest. “I packed up all of Prompto’s stuff.” Ignis caught the bag, and nearly dropped it at the weight. “Every last thing.”

Gladio whistled and took it with ease. “Kid’s whole life in one bag.”

“Not like he had much, though. Some clothes, some comic books, his camera. Oh, and these.” Aranea reached into her jacket pocket and took out a fistful of filled envelopes, unopened. Ignis frowned but grabbed the envelopes as she pushed them onto his chest. “Told you he wrote you letters, right? We required the girls, or, y’know, boys, to do family contact. Tell their folks they were doing okay in the big city, or whatever, it was a damn CYA so nobody’s parents would call the police—” Her lip curled and she looked away. “But Prompto didn’t have family. The little shit, Tummelt, kept trying to make him write, but two months back, he told me he wrote to a really nice guy he’d met. Pretty sure he meant you.” Aranea pointed. “I read one, _ Delphi _. I don’t suppose he mentioned these, huh?” Ignis strangled a nervous noise, but cleared his throat as Aranea laughed. “Yeah, I just saved the kid some postage.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it until I speak to him myself.”

Gladio laughed through his nose as Ignis thumbed at the edges of the envelopes. “Well, at least he’s trying to express his emotions. Though, you get the kid talking, who knows what’s gonna come out—”

Just then, there was a ruckus inside Regis’ hospital room, and Clarus suddenly stormed out, furiously thumbing his phone screen. “Gladiolus! Phone! Give me!” Gladio took out his phone and Clarus took it and immediately dialed in his free hand, and Gladio, bewildered, followed him as he got onto a call: “Cid? Yes, it’s Clar— don’t you dare hang up. We need to talk about your granddaughter, I’m buying you a train ticket to Insomnia on my phone as we speak…”

Ignis frowned after Clarus as he and Gladio turned a corner, until Aranea tugged his ear. “You with me, Ignis?”

“Yes, sorry.” Ignis frowned at the letters, then at Prompto’s bag in his hand. “Miss Highwind, I’m not certain that Prompto wants to live with me. After everything I said about him—”

“You apologized for all that, kid.” Aranea shook her head. “You saved his life. It wasn’t me he was clinging to when we got him out of that damn chair.” Ignis hung his head, but Aranea tugged his ear. “He doesn’t have two memory cards just of me in his camera bag. He doesn’t write me love letters. He never ran my way when I called him.” Aranea advanced on him. “It wasn’t me who saw him having nightmares on painkillers last night and went out and bought a portable Blu-Ray player and the _ Best of Rodgers and Hammerstein Collection _ and watched shitty musicals with him for twelve hours when he was so high he couldn’t even tell you his own name.”

Ignis crossed his arms. “I wasn’t alone.”

“So the prince knows all the words to _ Happy Talk _, big whoop.” Aranea snorted. “He lay in your lap the whole time.”

Ignis squeezed his eyes shut at the still-fresh sense memory of Prompto holding him tight, curled in his lap in his dark hospital cubicle and staring at the bright portable player screen with unfocused pupils, senselessly mouthing the words but gripping his hand like it was his only tether to this planet. “Miss Highwind—”

“You know what you gotta do, loverboy.” She patted his cheek, and he brushed her hand away.

“We have to have a very serious conversation.”

Aranea scoffed. “Sure. Fine. Look, since the big guy’s dad just dragged him off, I’m assuming I’m allowed to go keep an eye on Prompto? Unless you want to go sit with him?” She motioned indicatively to the door, but Ignis shied back.

“I… I’m afraid I’ve a bit of soul searching to do.”

Aranea scoffed. “Fine, but you better be here when we’re done.” 

“I will. Kindly text me when he needs an escort back to the recovery ward.” Ignis handed her his business card from the top pocket of his jacket, then left with Prompto’s bag and letters in hand. Aranea watched him go, then strolled to the door, humming a few bars of _ Happy Talk _ to herself.

* * *

Prompto was exhausted after admitting everything to Regis, retelling everything from his side, the way he knew it. He’d flinched when he’d given Cindy’s full name and Regis instantly went white and frantically flagged Clarus, and Clarus had rushed out in a fury, and Regis had grimaced when he’d described the circumstances behind the article, but it was out now, and nobody was angry with him. 

He hoped not.

“He doesn’t hate me, right?” Prompto said softly as Noctis wheeled his chair around. Clarus had returned to help lower Regis back into a resting position, as his medicine kicked in and quickly lulled him to a peaceful stupor. Noctis shook his head.

“Pretty sure he’d adopt you if you were still a kid.” He patted the handles as he pulled out of Regis’ glass-walled private room. “But as it stands, I think there’s someone else who’s much happier you’re not a kid who might wanna talk to you about just who cares about you and how much.”

Noctis wasn’t pushing. Prompto turned to face forward, and saw Ignis waiting, holding a jacket slung over his arm. “Hello there,” Ignis said with a soft smile, looking fond but tired.

“Hello, yourself.” Prompto grinned, and Ignis held the jacket out. 

“It’s gotten a touch chilly in the hallways, I wouldn’t want him to get cold.” He gave the jacket a gentle shake as he put it around Prompto’s shoulders. Prompto discreetly inhaled, enjoying the scent of Ignis’ cologne. Ignis then looked to Noctis. “Would you mind if we had a private word?” 

“That’s not really up to me, is it?” Noctis crossed his arms, smirking as he took a step back. “Prompto, you mind if this guy spirits you away?”

“Never.” Prompto beamed, and Noctis stepped back to let Ignis take hold of the wheelchair, retreating to his father's room as Ignis spirited Prompto away.

“How are you feeling, dove?” Ignis turned down a different hallway, away from the elevator. Prompto was curious, but he knew Ignis would never take him anywhere dangerous. 

“Pretty good. I’ve got to get my brain scanned in like an hour, but I’m feeling fine! I think I could get around without the wheelchair, but I’m still kinda dizzy and when I tried to go use the toilet on my own a nurse yelled at me.” 

Ignis laughed through his nose. “You didn’t see you when they first brought you in. Apparently you took a few severe hits to the cranium.” Ignis gently tapped his forehead as they rolled to a stop at an intersection of hallways. “Nobody wants you to fall and injure yourself further.”

“Nobody?” Prompto looked up and back at him, to see that same fond smile in place when Ignis looked down.

“Nobody.” Ignis pushed on.

They reached an empty meditation room, a chapel with a few pew benches, and Ignis closed the door behind them. “Oh, when you said private, you meant private, huh?” Prompto frowned a little as Ignis parked his wheelchair near the front bench.

“Would you like to sit on the bench with me?” Prompto nodded, and Ignis helped him up. He felt light and bony when Ignis squeezed his palms and lowered him down onto the bench, then sat down beside him, keeping both of his hands clasped around his. “I wished to say, if my words didn’t ring true for you before, that I am deeply sorry I said what I had to say out of a need to protect my career. I was insensitive not to think of your feelings. I should have at least told you what was expected of me first—”

“Iggy.” Prompto’s voice echoed in the empty room and in his own heart. “Ignis, I understand. I kinda figured you didn’t hate me. You did come to save my life and all.” He grinned, but even so, there was a hint of that pain still echoing in him. “I mean, you’re a big famous jewelry designer! You couldn’t afford to be caught getting in trouble like that, and even though neither of us technically broke the law—”

“I never voluntarily gave you money for sex,” Ignis murmured, “nor did you ever ask me for money for it—”

“Yeah, see, I’ve still done a lot of illegal things.” He turned his eyes down into his lap. “It’d be hard to explain, y’know, someone like you being with someone like me.”

“If all someone can see of you is what you were forced to be,” Ignis countered, gripping Prompto’s fingers tight, “they may as well blind themselves for all they’re missing!”

“No, no, it’s okay! They’re right. I am what I am—”

“And so much more!” Ignis put a hand over Prompto’s chest. “You’re so much more intelligent than you let on! You’re sensitive, compassionate, you’re sunny and affectionate, you never push your boundaries—”

“Ignis—”

“Aranea delivered your letters.” Ignis reached into his inner jacket pocket and took out the envelopes. “I apologize if you’d never meant for them to be read, but I had to answer them. The things you were thinking—darling, you don’t have to _ do _ anything more.” Prompto’s jaw dropped, and Ignis held his eyes. “You are, as you are, wonderful.”

“Ignis…” Prompto sighed and held his head. “I’m just another dime-a-dozen—”

“I beg your pardon?!” Ignis’s jaw hung slack for a moment, before he grasped Prompto’s hands again, covering them with his. “Darling, you’re _ one-in-a-million _! I’ve never met anyone like you before!”

“Iggy, it’s enough.” Prompto winced and pulled his hands back. “I know… I know what being with someone like me would do to your reputation. People know my face, and a whole lot more of me now, and exactly _ what _ I am.” 

Ignis shook his head and clasped his hands on Prompto’s knee. "_Who _ you are means much more to me.” 

“Yeah, but you had to make that video to keep people from hurting you!” Prompto groaned and sank down on the bench. “What’ll they say about you?”

“Ha.” Ignis scowled as the humorless laugh rolled off of his tongue. “Yes, what will they say of me, being the happiest I’ve been since I was a child!” He pushed himself to a stand. “Discard the person who’s brought out the best in me for months, because of what they’ll say about me! Perhaps I should discard my heart into my bloody inkwell, since that’s the source of all _ they _ want of me, forget all your kindnesses, for fear of what people will say!” He turned, shivering with anger, and Prompto felt guilt stab him through the heart.

“Ig… Ignis…”

“Don’t.” Ignis bit the word off, then, softly, filled with fear, _sang:_ _“Don’t throw bouquets at me…”_ Prompto’s eyes widened, as a faint memory of a warm arm around his shoulders floated back in against a dream of a bright screen, technicolor dreams of a favorite old movie like so many that he loved: silly love stories, told in song, that he’d always envied. Ignis, his gaze distant, summoned the same words, shaking his head as he sang: _“Don’t please my folks too much, don’t laugh at my jokes too much—”_

“But your jokes are hilarious!”

Ignis shook his head as he turned. _ “People will say we’re in love!” _

That faint memory of the previous night exploded into so much more, those long afternoons in one another’s company, long walks down a shimmering sidewalk, nights spent in intimate company and shared meals. Prompto knew he’d never loved anyone like Ignis, and he’d probably never want anyone this much again. 

And yet Prompto was scared because he was afraid of what they would say about Ignis? Ignis was the one who’d swept him off his feet!

"I like that about you, you know." Ignis turned again, unable to bring himself to look at Prompto. "How I'll catch you singing or humming little bits of old musicals to yourself. I love the way you speak, direct and honest. I adore the way you take pictures of everything that makes you smile that perfect smile. But you worry about what they'll say of me, because a plain, uninteresting, stuffy artist fell for a brilliant sprite of a man and doesn't regret it."

Prompto took himself to a wobbly stand. “Well! Um!” He knew the words. Of course he knew the words. _ “Some people claim that you are to blame as much as I! Why do you take the trouble to make my favorite pie?” _

“Precisely.” Ignis smiled. “Whatever will they say about me worshiping my muse and doing all I can to please him?”

"Like you haven't done so much for me. When you tell me you think I'm good, when you go out of your way to be nice to me, when you say something so smart that I never noticed about myself... I actually start to believe you." Prompto laughed weakly, _ “Don’t…” _ His voice broke on the lyrics, and he could only whisper, “It’s not fair to give me hope like this, you know.”

“If I’d known all you needed was hope, I would have lit that torch for you long ago.” Ignis closed back in, taking both of Prompto’s shaking hands. “I’m here now. I’ll never deny you again. You are special and important, how could I ever have missed what a precious gift you were?”

“Ignis…” Prompto swallowed. “If this isn’t real, it’s going to hurt when I find out.”

“It’s real, my dear.” Ignis stepped closer, chest to chest with Prompto. “It’s as real as Noctis’ ring, as Gladiolus’ tattoo, as your photographs, as that pie I’ll make for you as soon as we get home… if you’ll let me take you. It’s as real as my hands, holding yours.”

Prompto bit his lower lip, then whispered a few bars of the song, _ “Don’t dance all night with me ‘til the stars fade from above.” _

_ “They’ll see,” _ Ignis responded, _ “It’s alright with me, people will say we’re in love.” _ He eased Prompto to his chest. “We could be. I adore you, my darling, my love. You shine brighter than any diamond I’ve handled, bright enough to pale even my own fires.”

“You… it’s not fair.” Prompto laughed weakly into Ignis’ collarbone. “I never thought I was worth all that much, being treated this nice… But… I love you too, more than my letters can say.” He bit his lip. “But you know about me. And so does everyone else.”

“I know some, but I’d like to know much, much more.” Ignis kissed his forehead. “I want to know what you look like at your happiest. I want to know every angle of you. Every side of your heart.”

“I want that too.” Prompto clutched Ignis tight, then lifted his eyes to meet Ignis’ tender gaze. “Can we try?”

“My love, I’d like nothing more.”

With that, hand in hand, with nothing between them but tender promises and in view for all to see, they sang the last verse together: _ “Starlight looks well on us, let the stars beam from above, who cares if they tell on us? Let people say we’re in love.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist #14 - "People Will Say We're In Love," Oklahoma! 2019 Revival


	19. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where are our heroes six months later?

**Epilogue: **

“Iggy, come on!” Prompto laughed as he jostled for space on Ignis’ bathroom countertop, pushing his preferred pomade into place and shoving Ignis’ toothbrush aside. Ignis snickered and jostled right back, relishing the little war for territory of their shared space. “That side of mirror has the better light!”

“Precisely, my darling, but you don’t need the better light to make yourself look quite so handsome.” Ignis hip-checked Prompto as delicately as he could to get into the better lighting as he styled his hair. Little arguments like this lit up Ignis’ morning. 

“You’re the artist! I’m just trying to look good enough for you!” Prompto groaned but smeared his gel up into his hair and twisted it into it usual style. Ignis gave his arm a tiny pinch.

“You’re plenty good enough for me, my love.” He finished combing his hair into its slicked style, then kissed Prompto on the cheek right as the oven chimed from the kitchen. “Ah, there’s breakfast, darling, allow me to plate while you finish. Spot of coffee with your frittata?”

“You know it, babe!” Prompto grinned and shot Ignis the finger guns as he strode out. “We’ve got one hell of a day ahead!”

“It’s an exciting day indeed!” Ignis couldn’t keep excitement from his own voice, rough and almost frisky, and Prompto laughed.

“Yeah, you keep that excitement for tonight, we don’t have time to do anything about that right now!”

Six months ago, Prompto had moved into Ignis’ penthouse with nothing but a duffel bag of memories and a heart full of love. Now, the spring fashion shows were approaching and Prompto had his side of the walk-in closet, his share of dresser drawers, photographs pinned on the wall, and a heart overflowing. Now, they fell asleep in the same bed, went for long walks through the city or to shows and movies, went to events arm in arm, as a designer and a photographer, as a couple. They took meals together, Prompto in charge of making lunches and Ignis making breakfast and dinner, and would sit side by side at their table as they ate breakfast together and reviewed their schedule.

“Are you doing the _ Visions in Silver _shoot today?” Ignis scrolled through his daily schedule on his phone, glancing up at Prompto as he added milk and sugar to his coffee. Prompto stirred his coffee then tapped his phone’s screen.

“Yup, I’m doing bracelets and anklets all day. We’ll be setting up a beach scene in the company ballroom in the afternoon when the light’ll be right!” Prompto grinned. “I’m glad Noct convinced Regis to give me a little liberty on this one, this’ll come out so great!”

“Ah, I do remember Regis mentioned this! We’ll have to get our lunch in early.”

“Oh, for sure! It’s gonna take an hour to get all the screens arranged and set up the sandbox.” Prompto grinned. “But being able to control the conditions and the light will make it way easier to get good results. Your stuff is going to look amazing!”

“It always does.” Ignis chuckled smugly. “But with you on the job, I expect no less.”

“I can’t tell if you’re flattering me or yourself.” Prompto laughed and took another bite of his frittata, almost glowing with contentment as he chewed and swallowed. “I only gotta be as good as I am to pay respect to your talents!” He swiped a few times on his phone and scrunched his nose as he got to the news app. “Ugh, more charges against The Creep. They keep uncovering more stuff as they get through all of his contracts and shell companies, it’s unbelievable. You really think he’s as bad as they say?”

Ignis snorted into his coffee. “I imagine they’re putting as many charges as possible on him in the hopes that some will stick, or he’ll try to negotiate his way out of them by offering testimony on his co-conspirators. However, to my understanding, he’s refused to give any statement whatsoever.”

“Really?” Prompto raised an eyebrow, and Ignis gave a sharp, somber nod. 

“He did speak with Regis during the criminal indictment hearing. Rather, _ to _ Regis. He asked, ‘do you remember Aera’s voice?’” Prompto bit his lip, and Ignis staunchly explained, “Aera was Noctis’ mother, and a friend to the both of them when they were business partners. I think it’s a significant clue to his motives.” He recalled Aera, the ghost of her that still lived deep in his memory, her blonde hair, her blue eyes, and shook it off as he looked back at Prompto. “He envied everything Regis had. I suppose she was something he couldn’t retrieve.”

“Yeah, some things can’t be taken back.” Prompto looked back at the article. “It’d be nice if they’d just focus on the stuff they know he did so I don’t have to keep seeing his name in the news! At this point they’re gonna be blaming global warming on this creep by the time it’s over.”

“Ah, darling.” Ignis sighed and bowed to kiss his crown. “Just focus on your part. You’re going to be brilliant when it’s your turn to testify.” Prompto grinned and bowed into Ignis’ touch, just as he ruffled his hair. “Today, it’s our turn to build a beach in the cafeteria. Let’s get a move on.”

Prompto keened and hopped to his feet. “Man, I love our job!”

Ignis loved his job too, even more now that he walked to the office with Prompto chattering at his side. 

Security at Lucid knew Prompto now, and he fist-bumped with Nyx as he passed through to the elevators, as Nyx hit the “up” button for him with his prosthetic. “Hey, man, you been in touch with that Aranea lady lately?”

“We talked yesterday! Apparently rehoming the other girls is going really good, it’s basically been hiring fairs in there all day, every day!” Prompto quickly took his phone out and showed a photograph to Nyx of a crowd of young men and women talking to a few people in suits. “It’s going great! She's still not giving you _ or _ Gladio her number, though!”

Nyx laughed, snapping his fingers. "Not like I could keep up with her anyway, right?"

Aranea had managed to avoid arrest and imprisonment by cooperating with the police. The two house guards who’d done the most to aid and abet Ardyn’s crimes had quickly taken plea deals so they could serve five years instead of twenty, while Aranea, Biggs, and Wedge together began to lay out everything they knew about the inner workings of the ring, all the information they could give. Aranea managed to arrange a plea deal for the three of them such that they would serve community service and probation. 

It was decided that Aranea’s community service would be organizing new homes and employment for all of the other prostitutes Prompto had lived with, with Biggs and Wedge as aides. She’d even gotten a grant from the governor to make her organization permanent, with the promise of quarterly donations from The Lucis Caelum Foundation, Regis’ personal charity organization. Aranea had told Prompto, “I made it my goal to keep the girls under my care off of heroin and out of the harbor. Now I’m going to keep looking for more kids in bad situations to save.” 

There were a few exceptions, Ignis knew, and was reminded as they reached their office floor. Cindy Aurum greeted Prompto with a hug, and crushed him to her bosom. “There y’are, hon! You need to talk to the makeup artists about my colors, I swear, they don’t listen to nobody but you and your boyfriend there when it comes to the model’s palettes!”

Ignis had heard the name Cid Sophiar once or twice, as an old friend of the Caelum family. There had been some sort of falling-out, the details of which Ignis wasn’t privy to, but when Regis and Clarus had heard Cindy Aurum’s name on Prompto’s lips, they’d realized his granddaughter had met with a terrible fate. Ignis hadn’t witnessed the reunion, but it had ended with Cid promising to keep in closer contact, and with Cindy contracted to Lucid. 

When Prompto asked why she hadn’t asked her grandfather to introduce her to Regis earlier, she’d told him, “Hon, I set out hopin’ to make it on my own. I was proud, didn’t want Paw-paw’s help, and he was worried about me doin’ the whole model thing. Rightfully, I reckon. I tried to strike out on my own, but...” She’d trailed off, then smiled and concluded: “Well, I made it now, anyway. Ain’t so bad, havin’ a little backup from your family.”

Ignis watched contently as Prompto and Cindy talked quickly, naturally, with Cindy showing him a few palettes on her phone before texting him pictures. He nodded as he examined the pictures. “I’ll check it out, we won’t commit until we’ve all had a chance to talk, but makeup won’t be here until ten and the light won’t be right until around one, so don’t stress out! Breathe, okay?” He squeezed her hand, then showed her his gallery. “We’ll all have a good talk! I want you to look your best!”

“You’re the best!” Cindy kissed him on the cheek, and he laughed.

“Couldn’t do it without you!” He winked at her and gave her a big thumbs-up, before bounding to keep up with Ignis in the hall. “Where we headed first?”

“Regis texted me,” Ignis told him. “We’re to come to his office for a quick meeting.”

Noctis was on his computer when they approached Regis’ office, with Gladio leaning over his shoulder. He looked up when they came close and slipped on a smirk. “There you two are. Take a little too long getting your pants on?”

“We came as quickly as we could!” Prompto protested, and Gladio grinned big.

“You know, you wouldn’t think you’d advertise th— oof!” His taunt got cut off into a pained grunt, just as Noctis stood up after obviously stomping on Gladio’s foot.

“I just reviewed the brief for today’s shoot, but you think you can get me the edited photos from last week before the shoot this afternoon?”

“I’m gonna do my best, no worries!” Prompto grinned. “One more cleanup and I’ll have a flash drive on your desk!” 

“Cool. I’ve got that, and I’ve got to make some calls to our benefactors, and then look at your photos, but I’ll try to poke my head in for your shoot this afternoon.” He then pushed his intercom. “Dad, Ignis and Prompto are here.”

“Send them in, I’m expecting them.” 

“You got it.” He lifted his hand. “Slavedriver.” There was no malice in it, and he shook his head. “Still recovering and still going at it this hard.”

Noctis had stepped back down to the position of Regis’ P.A., but he’d taken over and expanded the charity wing of the corporation. He was planning a benefit for victims of sex trafficking, and though he was much happier in his less visible position, he had a way about talking to people he needed to talk to and moving people to where he needed them to be. Ignis was proud of him for trying as hard as he did, and knew that when the time came he would step up to stand in Regis’ place for the good of the company.

Regis was waiting behind his desk, and he wheeled his way out with a handful of papers. “Ignis, good, there you are. I reviewed the first set of sketches for the fall collection, and I’ve made some markup. Clarus has some input as well, but he wants to talk to you directly.”

“I’ll make some time to meet with him today.” Ignis approached and accepted the papers from Regis. His broken femur was healed, but the break had done some serious damage. He was going to physical therapy every morning to get back on his feet before the summer red carpet events, but he still had work to do. Despite being bound to a wheelchair, Regis was happy to be back on his throne. He smiled warmly at Prompto while Ignis flipped through the marked sketches. 

“Prompto, I’m quite excited about this afternoon’s shoot. I just wanted to mention that our investors were simply raving about the _ Silver Bells _ winter collection and your stunning shoot, but it came to mind that they were mentioning the angles on the hands were unique. I’ll ask you to keep that up. Do you think you can recreate that magic?”

“You can’t copy and paste genius,” Prompto chuckled, flushing under his freckles. “But I’ll do my best to find the sweet spot!”

“I believe in you.” Regis smiled and patted his hand. “Genius idea, recreating a beach in such a way that you can control the lighting. I’ll have to come down and see it myself.”

“I learned a few tricks building sets way back when, it’ll be great to try it out again!” Prompto laugh, and Ignis silently, proudly reveled in his natural ease chatting with their boss. He really could talk to anybody, after a fashion. “Don’t get my wrong, I’m not saying a good beach shoot isn’t fantastic, but there’s a lot of factors involved.”

“This gives us more time to edit, rather than waiting for a bikini shoot to be seasonal.” Regis chuckled amiably. “I’ll check in with the both of you later.”

“Thank you sir.” Ignis bowed his head. “I’ve a meeting with Cor regarding the clasps on his purses, so I’m afraid—”

“Oh dear, can I speak with you about that?” Regis glanced to Prompto. “I won’t keep you, Prompto.”

“Oh, sure.” Prompto bounded ahead, leaving the two of them alone. Regis turned to Ignis as the door shut, mischief glinting in his eyes,

“Well, Ignis? That secret project of yours?”

Ignis smiled weakly. “I've only been able to work on it between other projects, of course. I assure you, I want it to be perfect, but given the nature of it, I can’t dedicate it to myself while we’re getting ready for the season.”

“Make time, son, you have juniors and assistants for a reason. It’s important.” Regis gravely folded his arms despite his cheeky smile. “Do you need me to call Ravus about any specific materials?”

“I’ll contact Ravus myself when I know what I need.”

“Do you have any sketches to show me?” Regis’ mischief crept back onto his face. Ignis laughed and shook his head.

“I plan to show it to as few people as possible until it’s ready.”

Regis hummed, sounding disappointed, then began to wheel back behind his desk again. “Just bear in mind, you’ll need to make some variants on it for public sale. It’ll be quite a big deal after it happens, given your position. I hope you prepare Prompto for it.”

Ignis laughed humorlessly. “There’ll be no preparing him. It’s going to be exciting, but absolutely worth it when it’s done, regardless of my position in the public eye.” 

When Ignis left, he saw Prompto still hovering at Noctis’ desk, Noctis talking in a whisper: “Look, man, just tell Iggy you wanna give him a night off cooking. Don't get me wrong, you love his cooking, I love his cooking, but sometimes you just need grease and cheese. I’ll order a couple pizzas, we’ll play King’s Knight at my place and go over photos between rounds!”

“Aw, c’mon, you know Iggy doesn’t mix business with pleasure.” Prompto stuck his tongue out at Noctis. Noctis just scoffed.

“You are living, breathing proof that that’s not true.”

“Yeah, you two are in each other’s pockets all day!” Gladio snickered, then ruffled Prompto’s hair. “C’mon, kid, you gotta be jealous that Noct is wearing his ring and you’re not.”

Prompto scoffed and smoothed his hair back. “No, nope, not going there; seriously, you read too many romance novels.” He shook his hands on his hips, and Ignis noticed his shoulders slump a little. “I’m still just an ex-pro making my way. One of these days, I’ll be respectable enough for a classy guy like him.”

Gladio rolled his eyes. "You know, nobody really cares where you came from anymore. All they know is the damn wunderkind photographer kid who’s making our stuff look better than ever.”

Prompto laughed weakly, voice cracking a little. “One of these days, I’ll believe that, too.”

Gladio scoffed and waved Prompto off. "Get outta here." Prompto trotted off, brow all knit up, and Noctis shook his head and looked to Ignis.

"He's… you're working on that, right?"

“Once a week,” Ignis declared, jaw tense. “He’s been improving. I think that’s the worst he’s gotten of late, _ Gladio. _ Let’s not taunt the young man with cripplingly low self-worth with what he _ doesn’t _ have.”

Prompto was more affected from his ordeal than his sunshine smile let on. Most of the time, he was exactly the light, fluffy, cheerful creature Ignis had come to love, but sometimes, and too often for Ignis’ liking, he would act like the man he had been, whose only self-worth was determined by whatever someone was paying for him that night. Moments of paranoia where he feared being rejected if he gained weight, where he feared he wasn’t “doing enough” to make himself worth keeping around, and the occasional interjection of panics when he found himself reliving some of his more traumatic moments marred his happy new life. 

Ignis refused to let Prompto lose what he had gained, either to his own imagination or by delusions that Ignis might take it away. Prompto had been going to talk and group therapy, talking out his emotions and learning how to deal with them. Ignis wanted to attend couple’s therapy so he could best learn how to navigate his new future with Prompto. He hadn’t lived with anyone else since he’d moved out of his uncle’s house, and sometimes he wondered if he was doing enough to make Prompto comfortable.

All he wanted was for Prompto to be happy. Prompto had taught him that he, too, was more than just what he could do. The way Prompto looked at him when they were holding hands told him that much, and there was so much more. 

They’d both sacrificed a lot to make it as far as they had, but by hook or by crook, they had made it to one another.

“Now, if you must taunt him…” Ignis put his hands on his hips, pretending to be put out as he glared between Noctis and Gladio. “Then come to my office and take a look for yourself.”

Gladio and Noctis both followed him, Noctis grinning. “Tell me, tell me you’re gonna wait ‘til Luna’s back in town.”

“At least that long, Noct.” Ignis sighed. “It’ll be some time yet. I fully intend to give it to Prompto the moment it’s ready, but this particular item must be perfect, and I wish to be perfectly clear in my intentions. After all, I’ve hardly known the dear man eight months.”

“True love’s true love, Iggy.” Noct chuckled and nudged at his side as he halted at his door to unlock his office. 

Ignis’ office, once stark but for his desk, drafting table, and a few chairs, now was decorated with photographs, selfies and candids, taken by Prompto or of Prompto and Ignis together. Photographs hung from the wall, from the shelves, all over the bulletin board. Ignis’ laptop background was a photograph of the pair of them at the winter gala, Prompto in his customized, tailored Lucid suit with his bright red tartan vest and a silver tie, arm-in-arm with Ignis on the red carpet. There was a photograph on Ignis’ desk of the two of them standing together on Ignis’ balcony in the sunrise, smiling carelessly for the camera, glowing together brighter than any star could. 

“We all know you love him, and he loves you.”

“Indeed.” Ignis’ face warmed as he approached his drafting table and flipped to a page deep in the book to reveal a design of a ring, a band inlaid with stones. “I was thinking of topaz and aquamarine, or perhaps sapphire. Something that reflects how brilliant he is, bright enough to shout to the world how very much I love him, and yet, all my calculations suggest that the light won’t hit the stones right. Perhaps I need to adjust the number or the cut, but this has to be absolutely perfect.”

“That’s our Iggy,” Gladio scoffed, then patted him on the back. “The kid’ll love it.”

“When it’s ready. When we’re ready.” Ignis closed a hand over his heart and smiled privately.

Ignis had been changed. He could admit that he’d been exhausted of fighting back, of carrying the weight of the world, or at least of Lucid, on his own shoulders. He had learned that he could share that burden with others, and he could have more, so much more than that. He was worth it, and so was Prompto. 

It didn’t matter what anyone else thought about it, either. 

The intercom buzzed, and Prompto’s voice crackled into the room: “Hey babe, we’ve got the first contractors arriving for the build! You got a minute to come down and check out the colors?”

Ignis pushed his call button and leaned close to the speaker. “Absolutely, my darling, I’m on my way.” 

Gladio stifled a snicker and pushed Ignis’ office door open, and Noctis slapped him on the back as he passed. Ignis found Prompto waiting just a few doors down, waving to him. Stars lit in Ignis’ eyes when he looked on Prompto and thought of their future, like shimmering golden lights shone all around him, and he was at peace and happy when he linked hands with him.

“Ready, my dearest?”

“For you, always. Let’s go!” 

With that, Prompto escorted Ignis away to their day, their next steps, the rest of their life together.

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Playlist #1 - "Collar Full," Panic! At the Disco  
_We've waited so damn long, we're sick and tired_  
_I won't leave any doubt or stone unturned_  
_I've got a collar full of chemistry from your company_  
_So maybe tonight I'll be the libertine_


End file.
